


what is a legacy?

by melonlordnation



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon Elements, F/M, Gen, Little bit of angst, Little bit of humor, They love their kids, avatar next gen, brief mentions/implications of character deaths, but many liberties are taken, i made up my own timeline deal with it, korra spoilers, little bit of romance, story starts nine years after the war, talking about trying for babies, they also need a break, they’re all dumb and in love, wine mom katara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonlordnation/pseuds/melonlordnation
Summary: They know life has to go on. There isn’t time to galavant around the world, fight battles that aren’t theirs, or even sit around and crack jokes. The children won’t be the tight-knit group that their parents are, but their parents are determined to bring them together whenever they can.
Relationships: Aang/Katara, Eventual Tenzin/Lin, Implied Tokka, Maiko - Relationship, Past Sukka - Relationship, Zuko/Mai, kataang
Comments: 39
Kudos: 90





	1. Izumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Mai are the first of their friends to welcome a child into the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *They definitely talk about ~trying~ for another child, so skip the end if that makes you uncomfortable.
> 
> This chapter is nine years after the war ends, so take rough canon ages and go from there- Zuko’s 26ish, Sokka’s 25ish, Katara’s 23ish, Aang and Toph are 21ish.

It’s nine years after the war ends when the bell towers in the Fire Nation clang brilliantly, announcing the birth of the princess. The sages waste no time blessing her birth, looking to the sky for signs of good fortune, and mailing the letters they’d long ago been instructed to write as soon as the heir was born; two to Republic City, one to Air Temple Island.

The first response comes two weeks later and bears the seal of the Republic City Council. As ordered, it’s delivered to the Fire Lord as soon as it arrives, even though he and his wife have already taken to bed for the evening. 

”‘The Council of Republic City congratulates the Fire Lord and Lady on the birth of the princess... we are sure she will grow to be a strong leader...’” Zuko’s hurriedly skimming over the letter, reading it aloud to Mai, anxious to see if his friend has included any personal touches.

Mai sits up in bed despite her exhaustion and yawns. “Did it really take them two pages to write a congratulations?”

”Two pages?” 

Mai, amused at her husband’s confusion, picks up the second page of the letter from its place on their blanket. “It fell out when you ripped the envelope open.”

It only takes him a second to recognize the handwriting, and _there’s_ the smile Mai’s been smitten by since her own childhood. She nestles into his side, resting her head on Zuko’s shoulder as he begins to read Sokka’s personal letter aloud.

“‘Sorry if you panicked when you saw two pages and thought it was going to be a bunch of fluffy congratulations from the council, I had to sneak my own letter into the envelope at the last second.’”

They both laugh. If it were anyone else, the lack of preamble would be jarring, but this is Sokka. They’re far past the need for titles and introductions, except for when it’s necessary. 

“‘I can’t believe you guys were the first to have a kid! It’s so awesome, but it’s also really weird. Are we that old already? And what’s her name? No one calls her anything but ‘the princess,’ and I need to know what name to get engraved into the boomerang I may or may not be sending her!’”

“Her name will be announced on her first birthday,” Mai answers as if Sokka can hear her.

“Water Tribe customs are different than ours,” Zuko reminds her, “and I’m not sure exactly how they’re doing things in Republic City.”

“She will be trained in combat.”

They rarely broach the subject of whether their daughter inherited firebending, and politely turn the conversation when well-wishers make comments about the legacy of powerful benders being on the throne. 

“I don’t see how a boomerang would be useful in combat,” Mai admits, continuing her earlier thought.

Zuko smiles. “You’d be surprised. But just in case, she also has plenty of knives and swords to choose from.”

———

The next letters come four days after Sokka’s. Mai’s holding one of them, still sealed, when Zuko finally emerges from his fifth meeting of the day. 

“I believe this is for you,” she extends the envelope between her first two fingers.

“It’s for us,” Zuko insists, taking the letter anyway.

Mai cocks an eyebrow. “No, the one in our room is for us. Formal congratulations from the acolytes of Air Temple Island. This is from the Avatar and his wife.”

It’s still a strange phrase, _the Avatar and his wife,_ even though they’d gone to Aang and Katara’s wedding not even a year prior. They’d greeted the happy couple with hugs, and immediately after, Katara hiked up the skirts of her wedding attire and dragged Mai off to a corner of the room to ask if she was aware of her condition. Of course Katara had immediately noticed, and no, Mai hadn’t known or even suspected, and only Aang would want to upstage his own wedding by announcing the pregnancy until Zuko stopped him, reminding him of Fire Nation customs and insisting that the day belonged to him and Katara.

“They’re your friends, too.” Zuko’s fingers twitch excitedly around the paper.

Mai rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Yeah, she wrote to me, too. This one has your name on it. I have to go tend to our daughter, just read the letter!”

She disappears with a laugh before he can protest. _Our daughter_ is also a strange phrase, but it elicits a deeper joy than Zuko had ever thought possible. He tears into the letter, more carefully than he had with the one from Republic City, and studies the thin handwriting.

_Zuko,_

_We’re so excited for you and Mai! A baby is such a precious gift, and a daughter, no less! I’m sure she’s just as beautiful as her mother._

Katara’s right, of course. The princess is soft and pale and has a dark head of hair that thickens by the day, and she’s Mai made over until she blinks, revealing tiny amber eyes.

_Aang’s in the Earth Kingdom on business right now, but I’ll tell him the good news as soon as he returns. I’m writing because, although I don’t know parenting (yet!), I do know you. Take all of those worries and doubts and throw them away. Since taking the throne, you’ve ended a lot of bad cycles. This is not a continuation of one of those. This is another ending, but also the beginning of a new cycle- a cycle of unconditional love. I can’t imagine how much you love your daughter. Just know that she already loves you more than you can possibly know. The bond between a father and daughter is special. You’ll do it right._

He reads the rest of her letter, but that’s the paragraph he keeps coming back to. Katara always knows exactly what to say, exactly how to calm the fears that have haunted him since the day of his wedding, because that’s when the nation started buzzing and probing about when an heir would be born. They’d had to wait for five years after the wedding, to the concern of many, including the royal couple, but the princess finally entered the world.

Her letter also includes a handful of reminders; to _be gentle with Mai, childbirth is beautiful but it changes women physically and emotionally,_ which he is, and _you better tell me immediately if either of your girls need a healer,_ which he will, and to _write back soon, especially if things get hard again,_ which he always does, and _remember, you always have a place to stay on Air Temple Island,_ which they know, and finally, _give Mai and your daughter my love,_ which is almost how she always ends her letters, but this time she’s added “and your daughter,” which is surreal.

She never once refers to his daughter as “the princess,” which would be disrespectful if anyone else did it, but not only is this the Avatar’s wife, this is Katara. Her children will likely be royalty in their own right, and Katara’s made herself the exception to many of the Fire Nation’s rules. It helps to have a friend wearing the crown, but Zuko doesn’t doubt that Katara would have made herself just as prominent even if they weren’t as close as they are.

———

The final letter comes three weeks later, and it’s marked as “urgent” several times. Zuko’s in his study when Mai walks in, letter in hand, lips slightly upturned in her version of a smile. She doesn’t wait for him to look up before she begins reading.

“‘I’m sorry this took so long, the dunderheads at the mail office apparently didn’t think a letter from the Fire Nation palace was important enough to make its way straight to me. And crime doesn’t take a break in Republic City, unfortunately. Congrats on the kid, I can’t wait to see her. (Ha ha.) Seriously, I need a break, I miss you guys, and I can’t wait to meet this baby. Give her a good name. Regards, Chief T. Beifong, Republic City PD.’ Look, they gave her a stamp.”

Mai steps next to him and shows Zuko the letter, pointing to the bottom where, sure enough, Toph’s signature is stamped on rather than messily printed in stark contrast to whoever neatly pens her dictated letters.

Zuko snorts and goes back to shuffling through the papers on his desk. “It took them long enough. She’s been asking for months.”

“Is she always so…” Mai searches for the right word, “short?”

“She’s always been short.” It’s an easy shot, Zuko knows it, but he also knows that Toph would appreciate it if she were there.

Her informality and bluntness absolutely shocks members of the Fire Nation court and nobility, and there’s not an effective way to explain to them that this is just how Toph is. They whisper for weeks after each of her visits, placing bets on how long it will take until she’s no longer welcome in their country. Little do they know, their esteemed Fire Lord can privately dish as well as he can take.

“So are you going to do it?”

He’s not sure what Mai’s asking. She nods toward the pile of letters sitting precariously on the edge of the desk. “You know, write to the Republic City Council. Tell them to give their police chief a break. You helped build that city, they’d have to listen.”

“It sounds like she’s pretty busy at the moment. But I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave herself a break and showed up within the week. And I think Sokka would be offended if I asked him to send Toph, but not to come along.”

“Then ask him to come, too.”

In her letter, Katara warned that childbirth changed women, but this oddly hospitable version of Mai was unanticipated. 

“Would you like that?” Zuko asks, finally giving Mai his full attention.

Mai crosses her arms, trying to appear as composed as normal. “After her first birthday, of course. The chief, the councilman, the Avatar, Katara. They’re all so anxious to visit. And there are so few people we can trust around her. Visitors who double as a security unit are a nice change of pace. I know you all have unpredictable careers, but if we plan for it now, it could happen.”

“Who knows? By the time they get here, Izumi-”

“ _Our daughter,_ ” Mai corrects, eyes darting to the closed door on the other side of the room. It’s not untraditional to ponder names before a child’s first birthday, but it is unconventional (and unlucky, the sages claim) to definitively name a child before then. They don’t particularly care, but the last thing they need is a rumor that their beautiful princess is somehow an omen of bad fortune. Her parents know better than that; they and a select few healers know exactly how fortunate they are to have her, even if the rest of the nation can never know.

“Our daughter,” Zuko concedes, “might not be the only child of the group by then.”

Mai’s eyebrows shoot up under her bangs. “Zuko, I _just_ had her-”

And then Zuko’s expression matches hers, pink tingeing his cheeks. “No! I meant- Katara! I think they’re trying!”

Mai’s noble upbringing shines through when she wrinkles her nose. “She told you that?”

“I don’t know!” He’s still so flustered, and it’s not entirely unusual, but it is adorable. “I think she hinted at it in her letter. Hinted. _Maybe_.”

“ _Maybe_ ,” she copies his tone and suddenly can’t look at him, “they’ll have better luck than we did.”

“Maybe,” Zuko repeats, staring down at the stack of papers closest to him. There’s a blank on the top page missing his signature, and his pen is nowhere in sight. “Have you seen-”

“Do you want to try?” Mai blurts. “For another one?”

He can’t hear anything over the sound of his heart beating. Zuko meets his wife’s eyes. “Is it safe to?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It took us a long time to get her.”

It’s still not an answer. She’s appreciative he doesn’t pin the blame on her, because they don’t know _why_ it took so long. It certainly wasn’t for lack of trying. She chooses her words delicately in return, determined to not put any blame on him. “Well, now that we’ve succeeded once, maybe we can do it again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Mai frowns. “I can’t imagine anything you could do to me that would be more painful than childbirth. Which, technically, you did do to me.”

“It was risky. I couldn’t be happier now, but the entire time you carried her was terrifying. I keep remembering how sick you were, and how weak her heartbeat was at first.”

“Trust me, I remember it, too.” She puts her hands over one of his. “And I’d do it all over again. But I can’t do it on my own.” She gestures to the workload on his desk. “This is your duty,” she draws his hand to her now-empty belly, “and this is mine. We accepted this a long time ago.”

“If that’s what this is about, you’ve done your duty. You need to rest, and fully recover, and- and take a break!” Zuko tries earnestly to convince her.

“I’m not saying right now! And don’t start quoting Katara at me, she put the same thing in my letter. Just,” she presses his hand further into her abdomen, “think about it. With as many precedents as we’ve broken, we could at least keep one and provide another heir.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Mai loves him, she truly does, but his density never ceases to amaze her. She moves one hand to cup his face. “It’s not just about duty.” It’s her turn to fight a blush.

Oh. _Oh._ The bells in Zuko’s head start to go off.

“Then what is it about?” He asks a little too innocently and turns to fully face her. 

She sits sideways on his lap and drapes her arms around his neck. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, Fire Lord, I’m madly in love with you.”

”Really? Since when?”

“For so long I can’t remember exactly when it began. I may have been eight or nine years old at the time. You were always showing off, always so eager to please, and nice to me when you were forced to play with us.”

“Would you say that’s still true?”

”Yes,” she breathes, “still eager to please, and still very nice to me.”

”Nice enough to give our daughter a sibling?”

Just as Mai leans in to kiss the stupidity out of him, there’s a rapid knock at the door, followed by a servant inquiring if she’s in there. She nudges her husband’s chin upward.

“Think about it.” 

She’s gone as quickly as she first appeared.


	2. Bumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Izumi is born, Bumi enters the world. His parents love him, and his aunt and uncle can’t wait to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brief mention of a miscarriage.

It’s two years later when Air Temple Island is abuzz with excitement. The excitement quickly spreads further than just the small island; the Southern Water Tribe and Republic City keep a careful watch on the mail, waiting on the official news, and even the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation are eagerly waiting on the birth of the Avatar’s first child.

“He’s a kicker,” Katara says for months when she often clutches at her stomach. “He’ll be a wild child.”

Of course she knows it’s a baby boy. She can feel it, and not in the same way most women claim they can.

They go through a series of names while trying to find one good enough to suit their son, and it’s Katara’s “wild child” statement that gives Aang the idea.

After nearly seventeen hours of labor, Bumi is born. Being the Avatar is a busy job, but nothing in the world could have torn Aang away from his wife and their beautiful baby boy.

Bumi takes strongly after his mother from the moment he enters the world, aside from his large, bald, baby head. 

“He’ll grow into it,” Aang promises Katara days later. “Aren’t all babies bald, anyway?”

“Not all of them. Sokka and I weren’t, and neither was Izumi, according to Mai.”

Aang stares down at his son, cradled in his arms. “He looks more like Sokka than like you.”

Katara groans good-naturedly and strokes her baby’s face. “I don’t think the world could handle two Sokkas.”

Her husband’s face lights up. “We still need to write to everyone! Who _is_ everyone? Sokka, your dad, Zuko,” he’s counting on his fingers, “Toph, the White Lotus, the Kyoshi Warriors, do you think we should tell that fortune teller lady? She might have passed by now but I bet that girl, what was her name, Ming? I bet Ming’s still there-”

“Meng,” Katara corrects, smiling at his enthusiasm, “and that’s so many letters! Let’s just start with the world leaders and our friends and family.” Aang’s already passing Bumi to her and running to find enough paper to tell the entire world about his son. Katara calls out after him, “Everyone else can meet Bumi when he’s big enough to see them in person!”

Aang races back in holding a stack of paper and a pen. “Who all did I just say?”

Katara reaches over and pulls a much smaller stack of paper off the top of Aang’s large one. “Start with family. Dad, Sokka, Toph, Zuko.”

“Dad, Sokka, Toph, Zuko,” Aang repeats, and then again, committing the list of family to memory. Those four letters are sent off within the hour.

“What’s next?” He asks excitedly, reaching for another sheet of paper. 

Katara slaps her hand on top of the stack. “Rest. The world has, for whatever reason, decided to stay in balance long enough for you to be here now.”

Aang can’t argue with that, and he doesn’t want to. He slips into their bed and ogles down at their son. “This kid is gonna change the world.”

“Change it? We just got it the way it is!”

“Fine, if things go bad again, he’ll change the world,” Aang concedes. “And even if things don’t go bad, Bumi’s powerful. I can already tell. He’s gonna be great.”

And there’s that pang in Katara’s chest, the one that comes with the secret she’s kept hidden for months. She takes a deep breath. “He’s not like us.”

“Well, yeah, he’s a baby.”

“No,” she decides to stop struggling over words and just spits it out, “he’s not a bender.”

A thousand thoughts come to Aang’s mind. “How can you already tell? I mean, even Zuko didn’t start bending until he was like, five.”

“I could feel it,” is all she can say. “The same way I knew he was a boy.” 

They stare at their son, who’s wiggling in his mother’s arms despite being asleep.

Tears prick at Katara’s eyes, and she wishes she could blame them on post-pregnancy hormones. “I should have said something sooner.”

Aang wraps a loving arm around his wife and holds her close, determined to dispel any of her negative thoughts. “I was right, then. He’ll be just like his Uncle Sokka. That makes him great already.”

Then Katara’s crying, from relief and the overwhelming love in her heart for her boys. She turns her head into Aang’s shoulder, careful to leave breathing room for the baby.

“We’ll have another one,” Aang promises, mistaking the cause of her tears, “we’ll have a daughter and she’ll be just like you.”

“She’ll be an airbender,” Katara adds to the fantasy. “The first one born in a hundred and twenty years.”

Bumi starts babbling before his eyes open, and then he looks up, and both of his parents are right there, showering him with adoration.

“Oh, you heard that, Bumi? You want a little sister?” Aang asks.

Bumi shrieks and then starts wailing. Katara carefully moves to get out of the bed. “I think he wants a diaper change before a sister.”

Aang wraps his arm around her tighter. “You need to stay put.”

“I’m fine,” she protests, but even as she tries to sit up she winces at the residual pain running through her abdomen.

“Stay,” Aang insists. “It’s just a diaper. After everything else I’ve done in my life, it can’t be that hard.”

Katara hands over her sobbing son. “Fair warning, he may be wild, but his aim is pretty solid.”

———

The first letter comes from the Southern Water Tribe. Hakoda sends his love for his daughter and son-in-law, and to their child. Several gifts come with his letter, including impossibly tiny furs “for when I get to meet my first grandson.” He signs the letter “Chief Gramp-Gramp,” and Katara laughs until there are tears in her eyes.

“When will Bumi be old enough to travel?” Aang asks when he reads the letter.

Katara’s holding Bumi to her chest, patting him gently on the back. “Not for at least another six months, if we can help it. And I’d rather go by boat than fly, especially at first. The altitude might damage his ears if he flies too soon.”

Aang gets it, he really does, but he still sighs. “Boats are so slow.”

“Boats have been doing just fine for nearly all of history.”

“But Appa’s also safer. What if the boat capsizes? Or what if someone dangerous attacks the boat?”

Katara makes a shushing noise, partially toward her fussy baby, and partially toward her fussy husband. “Aang, _we’re_ the most dangerous people in the world.”

She understands and shares his fears, but spirits have mercy on whoever tries to attack her family while she's surrounded by her element. She tries not to think about what she’d do if anyone dared to threaten them during a full moon. She also knows she (probably) wouldn’t regret any of her actions.

Neither would Aang. He’d greatly disapprove, especially if she took it too far, but so much as one wrong glance from a shady character might be enough to activate the Avatar state for all he knows. 

“We’re safe here,” Aang says, convincing himself more than Katara. He’s been all over the world and seen too many terrible things, but Air Temple Island has seen the fewest unfortunate incidents by far. “We’re safe here.”

———

The boat flying Republic City flags lands at Air Temple Island two weeks later. Air acolytes rush to the docks to greet the unannounced visitors, and they recognize one of their guests from her voice before she ever comes into view. 

“I _hate_ boats!”

A hastily-constructed metal ramp emerges from the side of the ship, and boots come clopping down. Her feet hit the solid ground of the dock, and she finally gets a clearer view of their destination.

“Chief Beifong,” one acolyte acknowledges her. “We weren’t expecting you. Is everything alright?”

“It better be. I’m not here to work.” She turns back to the boat. “Are you coming or what?”

Councilman Sokka flies down the ramp as quickly as he can without falling down the steep incline. “You know there are ramps built into the boat, right?”

“Too slow.” She makes the ramp disappear with a flick of her hand and grabs her friend by the arm. “Come on! We’ve got a kid to visit!”

They make their way across the island, only stopping to ask for directions four times. Finally Sokka pushes open the door to his sister’s home.

The house is oddly quiet, which puts both of them on edge. They split up and make their way through the house. “Sweetness?” Toph calls out as she ventures toward the kitchen, a hand on her utility belt. “Twinkle toes?”

“In here,” she hears Sokka call to her, and he doesn’t sound concerned, so she leisurely walks down the hall toward his voice.

The new parents are asleep on their bed, with baby Bumi carefully placed on his father’s chest. 

Toph rolls her eyes. “Figures.”

Sokka reaches out to touch Bumi, and as if on instinct, Katara’s eyes spring open and her hand flies out to deflect the unexpected presence approaching her son.

“Ow!”

She rubs the sleepiness from her eyes. “Sokka?”

Her brother is rubbing his wrist where she smacked it. “Hey Katara.”

“Sokka!” Katara nudges her sleeping husband. “Aang, wake up, Sokka’s here!” 

“What am I, chopped penguin-otter?” Toph asks, and then Katara notices her sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. 

“Toph!” She nudges her husband again, harder. “Wake up!”

Aang groans and opens one eye, sees his friends, and perks up. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey buddy!” Sokka gestures to the tiny human on his brother-in-law’s chest. “And this must be the man himself!”

“Don’t wake up my kid,” Katara warns. “If you do, you’re putting him back to sleep.”

“Can I-” Sokka’s still reaching out for Bumi, but trying so, so hard to respect his sister’s wishes.

Katara acquiesces and settles back into the warmth of her blankets. “Of course. But like I said, you’re putting him back to sleep if he wakes up.”

Aang passes Bumi to his uncle, and Sokka falls in love instantly. “He’s so tiny,” he marvels. “Look at these little fingers!”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Toph quips from the chair. 

“Why do you always do that?” Sokka asks, not expecting an answer. He slowly walks over to her, barely looking up from his nephew. “Chief. Get a load of this kid.” 

Toph’s a little terrified, because she’s so strong and this baby is so small, but something inside of her compels her to reach out. Her fingers drift up Sokka’s arm and finally come into contact with the top of Bumi’s head. She gapes. “He’s bald!”

“Not for long,” Aang sleepily says from the bed. “He’s got strong genes from her side.”

Toph’s fingers lightly skim over Bumi’s face, and that’s all it takes for her to understand just how right Aang is. _Maybe,_ she thinks, and then shoves the thought out of her head. _Never._

A snore comes from across the room, and Toph bites back a laugh. Katara’s griped at Toph for her snoring for years, but _oh_ how the tables have turned now that Katara faces the exhaustion of motherhood. 

“Go back to sleep, Aang,” Sokka says. “We’ve got Bumi.”

“Are you sure?” Even that question is slurred by drowsiness.

“Sleep.” Toph commands, rising from the chair. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”

She and Sokka make their way back to the living room to let the other half of their little family rest peacefully, Bumi still cradled in Sokka’s large arms.

“Do you ever think about this?” He asks her when they’re seated on the couch.

She shakes her head. “I’ve got a force to run.”

“I do,” Sokka admits sadly, “I just don’t think it’s in my cards.”

Toph curses herself, because she’s not, _not_ , a touchy-feely person, but her heart breaks for her friend and she can’t slug him in the arm because he’s holding a baby. She leans her head against his shoulder instead and grabs at Bumi’s toes.

“They are tiny,” she refers to his earlier statement.

Sokka’s surprised by the tender show of affection but welcomes it, knowing it will never happen again in his lifetime. “He’s gonna be a strong warrior one day. But he can stay cute and tiny for now.”

“Hey, it’s possible to be cute, tiny, and a strong warrior.”

He can’t help it, he laughs, and the rumbling of his chest causes Bumi to stir. “Yeah, it is possible.”

They sit in silence for a while, Toph fiddling with Bumi’s toes, Sokka occasionally adjusting his grip. 

“You wanna hold him?”

“Oh! I, no, you know-”

“Toph. Take the baby.”

With some maneuvering, Bumi winds up safely in his honorary aunt’s arms. 

Sokka licks his lips. “Can we make- nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“So are a lot of things you say. I’m not dropping it, Sokka.”

“A pact,” he continues, and he knows it’s a bad idea, but Toph can’t physically react because now she’s holding Bumi. “I’ve heard of people making these pacts, where if they’re still single by a certain age, they’ll get married.” She doesn’t initially respond. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“Yeah, it is.” And then, “What do we get out of it?”

“Motivation to find ‘the one’ out of fear you’ll have to marry the other person. That, or lifelong companionship.”

“If I wanted lifelong companionship, I’d get a pet.” She barely stops to think. “Thirty-five.” She wiggles one of her arms free from underneath Bumi and extends it in a handshake.

This is going drastically different than Sokka anticipated, but he can’t chicken out because it was his idea. He nervously chuckles and shakes her hand. “Thirty-five and thirty-eight.”

Toph does quick math in her head. “You’ve got fifteen years to get your life together so you don’t get stuck with me.”

“Hey, this is a two-way street. You’ve gotta put in the work so you don’t get stuck with me.”

Bumi coos in agreement.

———

Katara cooks dinner that night, and when the four of them sit around the dinner table, it almost feels like old times.

“So what’s going on in the rest of the world?” Toph asks Aang. “Anything I should know about?”

“The Earth King’s birthday just passed,” Aang answers as he picks up a vegetable kebab. “That was fun.”

“Have you been to the Fire Nation recently?” Sokka asks.

“Not in over a year. Last time I was there, Izumi could barely pull herself upright, and now she’s running all over the palace. I’m sure she keeps her parents and Ty Lee on her toes.”

Toph doesn’t miss a beat. “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you, twinkle toes?”

“I’m not twelve anymore,” Aang jokingly pouts.

“Nope, but your toes are still a-twinkling.”

“She’s a real talker now,” Katara shifts the conversation back to the only other child in their friend group. “Zuko says she’ll talk the ears off of anyone who will listen, and most of her vocabulary is real words.”

“That’s so cute!” Sokka gushes. “I can’t believe it’s already been two years since she was born, and I still haven’t gotten to see her yet.”

“They invited us to come over, remember?” Toph reminds him, poking him with the not-pointed end of her kebab skewer.

“Oh, so you didn’t barge into the palace unannounced and let yourself into their bedroom?” Katara teases. 

“Hey,” Sokka cuts her off, “that’s different.”

“We really should go soon,” Aang says. “I feel so bad that we planned to visit for over a year and then none of us could make it.”

“That’s life,” is all Toph says.

“As soon as Bumi can travel, we’ll take him to see Dad, and then to the Fire Nation,” Katara vows. “Two long-overdue trips are in order.”

After dinner, Aang takes Sokka to the docks for “bro bonding time,” leaving Katara and Toph with the once-again sleeping Bumi.

“You know, right?” Toph asks while Katara washes their dinner dishes, as soon as she’s sure the boys won’t be returning for some time. “About Mai?”

Katara swallows the lump in her throat that just appeared. “She wrote to me when she suspected she was pregnant again. Ty Lee wrote to me when they found out she wasn’t anymore.”

She felt guilty sending them Bumi’s birth announcement just months after their own tragedy. They still hadn’t written back.

Toph nods. “Their customs don’t always make sense, but I get why they wait to announce stuff like that. You just never know.”

“Aang and Sokka don’t know.”

“Most of the world doesn’t know.”

“It’s better that way.”

Bumi whines in his sleep. Toph toes at his baby carrier, gently rocking him until he drifts back off. 

Katara watches the whole thing out of the corner of her eye. “You’re a natural.”

Toph scoffs. “Please. That wasn’t even a hard one.”

“What do you think a hard one is?” Katara dries the last plate and pulls out two glasses and a bottle of wine- one of her father’s gifts. 

“You know. When they start crying, and you don’t know if they’re hungry, or gassy, or need to be changed, or if they’re sleepy, or if something’s really wrong.”

Katara fills the glasses halfway and slides one to her friend. “It sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

Toph picks up her glass. “What are you getting at?”

“Are you ever going to have any?”

Toph groans. “First Sokka, now you. What is it with you people?” 

That catches Katara off guard. “Sokka asked you about kids?”

“He basically said the same thing you did.” Toph chooses to never tell her about the pact they made. She gulps from her glass. Fifteen years is a long time. Right? “And if anything, you’re the natural mother. I could never do it. I’ll just be the crazy, fun aunt for however many brats you pop out. Deal?”

Katara clinks her glass against Toph’s. “Deal.”

———

The letter from the Fire Nation finally arrives two weeks later, just as Aang is reluctantly loading up Appa’s saddle. He doesn’t want to leave, but there’s unrest in some Earth Kingdom island, and Katara convinces him that the sooner he settles it, the sooner he can come back to her and Bumi.

An acolyte catches him before he leaves, waving an envelope with a flaming insignia. Aang accepts the letter and his eyes dart in the direction of his house. He’ll bring it to Katara after he reads it.

_Avatar Aang and Master Katara,_

_The Fire Nation sends their sincerest congratulations on the birth of your son. He, like the two of you, is a beacon of hope to all of the nations, bearing the promise of continued good fortune and peace across the world. As time allows, the Crown would be most honored to accept your family as guests in the palace.  
_

It’s too formal, Aang immediately realizes as he reads. It’s written by a scribe or a sage. The only semblance of his friends in the letter are the multiple references to “the Crown” and the Fire Lord’s sharp signature at the bottom.

Something in him says to go to them before traveling to the Earth Kingdom. He pushes the thought away. The Fire Nation is odd about their customs, and yeah, he’s the Avatar, but showing up unannounced might not be taken kindly. 

Aang brings the letter to Katara, who’s nursing Bumi in their bedroom. “From the Fire Nation,” he simply says, tossing it onto the table next to their bed.

”What’s it say?”

He has a small, wry smile. “Congratulations. And to come visit as soon as we can.”

Katara’s brow creases in concern. “That’s it?”

“I’m sure they’re just busy,” Aang explains more to her than to himself. Being a world leader is an exhausting job, and so is being a mother. “We’ll go as soon as Bumi’s old enough.”

Katara strokes their son’s face. “As soon as he’s old enough. Not a day later.”

Aang kisses them goodbye, and then he’s off to save the world. Again.


	3. Lin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lin is born two years after Bumi. If anyone’s strong enough to be a single mother, it’s Toph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mention of character death in the third section. It’s just one short paragraph, but read with caution, my friends.

Not long after Bumi’s born, Toph falls in love, and not with a baby. 

She meets him at a bar on a weekend when one of her detectives insists Toph needs to let loose for a night. She vaguely recognizes him from their previous encounters in the line of work. They strike up a conversation that lasts well into the night, and when he leaves, he says he’ll see her again next weekend, hopefully sooner.

Kanto’s _great._ He’s a lawyer, and she’s the chief of police, so they work similar hours and understand each other’s jobs. Half the time their jobs overlap; it’s not odd for Toph to bring an extra cup of tea to her court appearances, or for Kanto to send particularly sweet flowers to the police station.

It’s so weird, she thinks, but she finally understands what all of her old friends went through. And reciprocated feelings are much better than one-sided crushes. 

They’ve been together for a year, and this is the part where her Republic City friends tell her it gets more serious. She can’t help but wonder if they’ll move in together soon.

Kanto’s great, until he’s _not._ He’s at her place one night, and she can feel him fidgeting nervously on the couch, so in true Toph fashion, she asks him outright why he’s so anxious. When he stands up, there’s a brief moment where she wonders if he’s about to propose, and then he doesn’t. He breaks up with her instead. He makes excuses about how _busy_ she is, and how _aggressive_ she is, and she’s _just_ _not the person he thought she was,_ which is completely ridiculous, because she’s never been anyone but herself. So she calls him out on it.

Next he tries being self-deprecating, saying he’s _not enough for her,_ and she won’t stand for that; she knows he’s still lying. 

Then he resorts to a different tactic. _This relationship is fundamentally corrupt. I mean, seriously T, how long did you think we could keep this up? I haven’t won a case in months because I keep calling you to the stand. I see the way the Council looks at us, even though you can’t, and I pretended I didn’t care for your sake, but I do care. Do you not respect me enough to care about my career as much as I care about yours, T? Without you, I have a future._

She’s neither proud nor embarrassed by how she lashes out. She shoves him out of her apartment, yelling _“leave”_ and ” _you’re not allowed to call me that_ _anymore”_ over and over between curses, and as soon as she slams the door shut behind him she slumps to the ground, sobbing.

Because it’s not just a breakup, and she knows it. She ignored the signs when they first appeared, but she took herself out of the field _just in case,_ claiming the rookies needed more experience, and bent herself bigger uniform after bigger uniform, and when she eventually felt the second heartbeat thrumming inside her body, she knew she couldn’t hide it from the public eye anymore. _If it had ever been hidden in the first place,_ she thinks bitterly from her spot on the floor. It’s not like anyone’s told her she looks pregnant. No one’s brave enough to.

Within the week, Kanto leaves Republic City. Toph doesn’t care to find out where he went. If she was too much for him, their child would be, too. This is _her_ baby now.

She files for a leave of absence with the Council on Thursday evening. Their answer will come by Monday. In three months, someone else will temporarily take over as chief of police.

What she’s not expecting is to hear a scuffle in the bullpen, or for her office door to burst open Friday afternoon. She leaps to her feet and her hand flies to her utility belt, cables at the ready. “ _Who_ thinks they can just barge into my office?”

The door closes. She can hear a crinkle of paper and familiar footsteps. “What is this, Chief?”

And she should have known immediately who would let himself into her office unannounced. She should have known he’d come as soon as her request landed on his desk. She waves a hand in front of her face and hardens her expression. “Does it look like I know?”

“Toph.”

He never calls her by her name, hasn’t since she became police chief, and it awakens something inside of her. She eases back down into her chair. “A formal request for a temporary leave of absence.”

The paper crinkles again between shaking fingers. “Why?”

“Maternity leave, Sokka. I’m pregnant.”

“You’re- how did-” He can’t finish a thought.

“The old ostrich-horse-birds and hummingbees,” She gestures for him to sit. “Surely you know about that by now.”

“Ostriches are birds,” he mumbles, sinking into a chair across from her desk. “Are you getting married?”

The question surprises her. “Who would I get married to?”

“Uh, Kanto?”

“He’s not in the city anymore.”

Toph knows that if Ty Lee were there, she’d probably say something about how Sokka’s aura changed colors. “You’re pregnant, and he left you?”

”Yeah. He said it was because of you.”

” _Me?_ What did I do?”

”Not just you. The whole Council. Apparently he can’t win a case because the testimony of the police chief means nothing when the jury knows you’re dating her.”

Sokka’s brain is still reeling. “He- what? No! He can’t win a case because you’re the only solid part of it! His notes are all over the place, he presents a lot of circumstancial evidence-”

”And he didn’t do any of that before I was in the picture,” Toph finishes. Off of Sokka’s silence, she adds, “I know how good he was before me. I was at all of those trials, too.”

”That’s not your fault.”

”You think I don’t know that?”

”He used you,” Sokka says, “in more ways than one. Now he’s gone, and he’s still using you.”

Toph steels herself. “He doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to.”

“Toph, this isn’t-”

Her hand flies to her stomach. “Will you shut up?”

“No, I won’t,” he firmly says. “This isn’t something you can do on your own.”

Her eyes narrow. “I meant shut up because every time you talk, it moves. I think it likes you a whole lot more than I do right now.”

“Your baby isn’t an ‘it.’” Sokka lets his hair down and runs his fingers through it. “And I meant, this isn’t something you should have to do alone. I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“Well, I am. And in order to make that happen, I’m gonna need time off in a few months.”

“You’ll get it,” he assures her. “And whatever else you need.”

“I don’t need your pity,” she spits out.

She’s not really angry at him, he knows that, but she’s clearly been sitting on untapped emotions for too long. What she needs is a friend who will look out for her, especially in the coming days. He’s been doing it for years, even past their childhood; they’re the only two who are geographically close enough to keep tabs on each other without waiting weeks between letters that may or may not come, or without being married. And even that last bit might come if they get desperate enough.

“It’s not pity. It’s what friends do for each other.”

They stand to shake hands, mutually understanding that this is the end of the conversation, but then Toph holds on.

“The kid will be eleven when I’m thirty-five.”

Sokka squeezes her hand before he lets go. “I know, Chief.”

———

Her baby is born almost three months later, and everyone tells Toph she’s a beautiful baby girl. 

“Of course she is,” Toph tells them all, ever the spitfire. “She’s my kid.”

She doesn’t go through the process of sending out formal announcements, just as she’d kept the pregnancy a secret. When she’s on maternity leave and the schedules of her old friends finally, _finally_ align, she gets on a boat with Sokka and her new baby, and they sail for the Fire Nation.

It’s safe to say that no one’s prepared for Toph to arrive with a tiny bundle of thin blankets in her arms. Zuko’s the first to meet his friends at the docks, as his royal title demands, and he abruptly stops when he notices the blankets are moving on their own. “Who’s this?” He asks.

“Lin Beifong,” Lin’s mother proudly announces. “Lin, meet the Fire Lord.”

Lin sneezes in response. 

Zuko’s face is briefly shocked before he puts on a smile, and Toph can feel just how weary he is. “Congratulations. I didn’t realize.” 

He doesn’t ask about Lin’s paternity, and Toph offers no answer. They and Sokka ride to the palace in a carriage, playing catch-up and swapping tales.

Mai greets them at the palace, and Toph can sense the much shorter presence standing shyly behind Mai’s dark robes. “Izumi,” Mai pulls her outer robe to the side, revealing more of her daughter, “say hello to our guests.”

Izumi, now four years old, waves tentatively at the adults she’s never met before. She wears her hair in one bun rather than two. Sokka thinks she still favors Mai.

“Do you know who this is?” Zuko’s looking down at his daughter, watching her face closely. “These are my friends, Sokka and Toph.”

The princess is no longer straight-faced; she’s looking between her father and the visitors in expressive awe, and now she looks more like Zuko. “Like from the stories?” She asks.

“Like from the stories,” Mai affirms. 

Sokka kneels down to Izumi’s height and reaches behind his back. “This is for you.”

With some encouraging from her father, Izumi steps forward and accepts the gift with a meek “Thank you.” She’s never seen anything like it before. She runs her fingers over the curves, over the engraving she thinks might be her name. “What is it?”

“A boomerang.” Sokka smiles.

“You throw it,” Mai explains to her daughter. “It’s not a toy, it’s a tool.”

“Like the knives,” Izumi reasons.

“Yes,” Zuko agrees. “And you can practice your throwing with the boomerang until you’re big enough to use the knives.”

Izumi holds the boomerang close to her chest. She looks up at the other visitor, who’s holding blankets instead of a gift. “That’s a baby,” she says matter-of-factly.

The woman holding the baby turns her head toward Izumi. “Her name is Lin.”

“Lin.” Izumi tries the name out.

“She’s beautiful,” Mai says, and there’s the same internal change Toph felt in Zuko on the docks. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Toph won’t be snarky about her child to them.

———

Aang and Katara arrive with two-year-old Bumi a day later, and with a surprise announcement: Katara’s pregnant again.

The six adults sit in the shade, Lin snug in Aang’s arms, and they watch Izumi, Bumi, and Ty Lee run around one of the gardens. The children are poorly tossing the boomerang back and forth, which completely defeats the purpose of a boomerang, but they’re kids. There’ll be time to train when they get older.

Lin reaches up and latches onto one of Aang’s fingers. Even for a baby, she’s strong. “She’s got a grip.”

“Watch the beard,” Sokka warns from experience. “She likes grabbing those, too.”

“So, crazy fun aunt, huh?” Katara asks Toph.

“That’s still in effect. Lin doesn’t change anything.”

But Toph’s not stupid; Lin does change things. Someone’s going to have to watch her during the days when Toph goes back to work, and she’s another mouth to feed, and what if either of them gets sick? What then?

“Are you going to get married?”

Like brother, like sister. It must be a cultural thing. Toph shakes her head. “Not if I can help it.”

Katara’s brow furrows. “What about her father?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sokka answers before Toph can. “She’s got this.”

Toph picks at her nails. “Even if he did matter, I’m not a fan of rockslide weddings.”

Aang changes the subject. “Who would have thought we’d be here one day?”

The honest answer? None of them. In different lives, they’d all be in their respective nations; Aang would still be in the iceberg or long dead, there would be no Republic City, the world would be run by the Fire Nation, and they’re not sure who would have been on the throne at the end of it.

“We’re very lucky to be alive,” Zuko muses, watching his daughter trip over her own feet and jump back up, unphased. He’s grateful for Ty Lee’s seemingly endless energy; no one could keep up with Izumi like she could, even in all of her Kyoshi getup.

Sokka can’t peel his eyes from Ty Lee, but for an entirely different reason. He thinks if he stares long enough, her hair will be shorter and unbraided, and she’ll be just a bit taller, and she’ll give him a different kind of smile, and she won’t be Ty Lee anymore. Staring doesn’t work. It doesn’t bring Suki back.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he clears his throat. “We are.”

Lin cries and rubs her face into Aang’s shirt. “Hand her over,” Toph sighs.

“May I?”

There’s an uncertain hesitancy in Mai’s voice. She hates herself for it. But Lin’s been passed around all afternoon, and at this point even servants have gotten to hold her, and Mai’s been stealing glances for so long. She can’t take it anymore.

Toph leans back on her forearms. “Knock yourself out.”

Aang hands Lin to Zuko, who passes her to Mai. Lin still cries when she’s in Mai’s arms. She’s different than Izumi was. Izumi was soothed by gentle pats to her back and bottom, but no such tactic seemed to work on Lin. _Great,_ Mai thinks. _I’m out of practice._

“Firmer,” Toph guides Mai off of the sound of Mai’s fingers on Lin’s back too tenderly. “She won’t break.”

Mai pats Lin more firmly and fixates on the infant as her cries get weaker. With Lin’s face turned to the side, all Mai can see is the dark peach fuzz on her head. She can almost pretend that _yes,_ this is her baby, she’s not a failure as a mother and a Fire Lady and she’s provided more than one heir to the throne. And then Lin turns her head, and Mai can see how Lin’s eyes aren’t like her husband’s and Izumi’s, and the spell is broken. 

Bumi runs up to the adults and jerks his head toward Lin. “Can she come play?”

Katara wipes some of the dirt off of his face. “She’s too little to play. But in a few years, you can play together.”

“Aren’t you playing with Izumi right now?” Aang asks his son.

Bumi crosses his arms, and he’s the spitting image of his uncle. “She’s doing flips, and I don’t wanna do flips.” He’s got the tiniest hint of a lisp turning his “l” sounds into “w” sounds. 

Sure enough, Ty Lee’s doing circus tricks and Izumi’s doing her best to copy them. Ty Lee applauds loudly every time, even when Izumi falls on her face.

Zuko tears his gaze from Mai and Lin and turns to Bumi. “Sometimes,” a smile plays at his lips, “it’s still fun to play with the girls, even when they’re doing flips.”


	4. Kya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year after Lin, Kya is born. Her birth affects her uncle and the Fire Lady in strange ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Angsty Mai and Sokka

A year later, Katara’s alone when Kya’s born.

She struggles with determining where to send the announcement letters. She no longer has family in the Southern Water Tribe. The rest of the nations will be excited to hear about the birth of her second child, but there won’t be nearly as much celebration as when Bumi was born. Katara hopes desperately that her daughter won’t spend her entire life in the shadow of her brother and parents.

She wants to write to Republic City, to tell her brother, her friend, and her husband that Kya’s made her grand entrance, but her loved ones have much bigger concerns at the moment. They’ve finally caught some big time criminal, Yakone, and he apparently poses a serious threat to the balanced world they spent so long creating.

It’s a security risk for Katara to write to Republic City. She can’t accidentally give this criminal more leverage over her loved ones. That’s exactly what would happen if her letter wound up in the wrong hands.

She wants to write to the Fire Nation. She starts the letter three different times before giving up. It still doesn’t feel right to bring up the birth of a child to Mai and Zuko, even though they’ve had more than a year to privately grieve. 

Katara celebrates in solitude. Kya came much easier and quicker than Bumi did, and stopped crying almost as soon as she was in her mother’s arms. The acolytes help by entertaining Bumi while Katara cares for Kya, and then rotating the children so Bumi gets the attention he needs from his mother while Kya sleeps. On a few glorious occasions, she has neither or both of them. She sleeps when she can, and holds both of her children close when she can.

Kya’s not an airbender. Her mother knows it. Katara’s not upset by this at all; she’s elated that she has a daughter, named after her mother, and she’s a _waterbender._ She knows Aang won’t be upset either; he’ll share her joy and love his daughter with his whole heart, but he’ll still want to keep trying until they have an airbender. Katara’s up for the challenge. If it were her choice, they’d have a child who could bend each of the elements, and Bumi would be their fearless leader.

Katara wonders if she looked like Kya does when she was a baby. She knows that Kya, moreso than Bumi, favors her over Aang. Unlike her brother, Kya comes out with a dark, fuzzy head. 

Two weeks after Kya’s birth, a letter comes from the Fire Nation unexpectedly.

_Katara,_

_You didn’t think you could have a child and not tell us, did you?_

She rolls her eyes, wondering which acolyte proceeded with sending the formal letters.

_We’re sincerely happy for you. Daughters are a great joy, but you and I know that from experience. And now it’s our turn to have our own daughters. We’ll raise them differently than we were raised, and they’ll grow to be powerful forces in the world._

_I don’t think Izumi will be a bender. Her greatness will still come from within. The same is true for your daughter, whether she can bend or not. I hope you understand, I intend no disrespect to you or your family, but I don’t know who else to go to and thought maybe you’d shared this experience. I feel as though I’ve disappointed my husband and my nation because Izumi cannot bend fire. If she’d been born to a mother with those abilities, she’d be truly unstoppable. She’d get the respect she deserves, and it would grow as she does._

Oh, oh Mai. Katara pulls Kya closer instinctively.

_I apologize if this is out of line. My husband trusts no one more than you and Aang. I only want to extend that same trust._

_I hear there is trouble in Republic City. Zuko’s going crazy, wishing he could be there to help handle it, but it’s not his place. I’m sorry Aang couldn’t be there for your daughter’s birth. If there is anything we can do for you during this time, don’t hesitate to ask. You always have a home in the Fire Nation._

_Respectfully,_

_Mai_

Katara immediately writes back. Kya watches in fascination.

_Mai,_

_Thank you for reaching out. Our daughter’s name is Kya, after my mother. I agree, Kya and Izumi will be raised in a different world than the one we grew up in, and it will be for the better. They will be respected and revered for their strength, not their abilities or lack thereof._

_I suspect Kya will be a waterbender. But you should know she is the first of my children to have bending abilities. Bumi and Izumi are similar; they are powerful without the touch of the spirits. Even the Avatar has a child who cannot bend. There is no fault in this._

_I appreciate you being so trusting with me. I often share your worries of somehow being a disappointment. Aang and I now have two children, and he’s still the only airbender. It’s important to me that you know you are more than your doubts._

_There’s not a single thing you could do to make Zuko love you less. I would say he might draw the line at treason, but even he did that, and look at the two of you now._

She hopes Mai will think that’s funny.

_In my years, I have never heard him utter a single contemptuous word against you or your daughter, and never seen him look at you with anything but pure love. Even during the war when we were younger, when we’d sit around campfires at night, he’d speak fondly of you._

_Neither he nor myself had a mother for very long. For this reason, we understand the value of a mother’s love. You are Izumi’s mother. You give her a different type of love than Zuko does, and he knows well that there is no replacement for that in this realm or any other. You have not failed him or your nation._

Katara re-reads Mai’s letter, thinking of what else needs to be addressed.

_There is indeed trouble in Republic City. I’m also going stir-crazy, wishing I could help resolve this conflict. But my place is with my children for now. I don’t exactly know what is happening in the city, but I’m sure I’ll hear all about it when Aang returns. I also suspect my brother and Toph will come by to meet Kya at some point. Even if it’s not when they come, I hope I get to see you and Zuko soon. Let’s not wait another four years to reunite._

_All of our love,_

_Katara_

———

Aang returns from Republic City a week later, exhausted and dejected. Katara thrusts Kya into his arms, and he melts, tearing up at the sight of his new child.

She sits next to him and gently rubs his back while he holds Kya. It’s an odd reversal of roles, Katara thinks, watching the baby coo at her crying father. 

“How did it go?” She eagerly asks when he collects himself. “Did you get Yakone?”

“I took his bending away,” Aang answers sorrowfully. “I never thought I’d have to do that again. But I didn’t know what else to do.”

“The Council voted to take his bending? What kind of bender was he, anyway? What did he do?”

“The Council sentenced him to a life in prison for the crimes he committed against dozens of Republic Citizens.” Aang hesitates, but this is Katara. He couldn’t keep anything from her if he wanted to. “He was a powerful bloodbender. He didn’t even need the full moon, Katara.” Aang’s eyes are wide. Katara’s are closed in a grimace.

“He got all of us, the whole courtroom. Sokka first. Then Toph, when she tried to stop him. I was sitting directly behind him, I have no idea how he even got me. Yakone didn’t have to use his hands either. It was almost like Combustion Man. He made Toph unlock his chains and he escaped.” Aang grabs Katara’s hand with his free one. “He carried her straight through the air while holding all of us in place.”

“She couldn’t see.” Katara’s suddenly hoarse.

“He escaped after knocking all of us out. I went into the Avatar state and was able to catch him. That’s when I took his bending away.”

Kya’s still making sweet baby noises, blissfully unaware of the dark conversation happening right over her head.

Yakone was a waterbender. A waterbender who could bloodbend. And after defeating him, Aang came home to his new daughter, a waterbender, genetically predisposed to bloodbending. Katara feels sick. She doesn’t want to tell him.

“I know.” Aang squeezes her hand. “I can feel it in her. She’ll be a great waterbender, just like you.”

Bumi runs into the room and leaps onto the bed. “Daddy!”

Just like that, the conversation is postponed. Aang ruffles his son’s hair. “There’s my boy! Did you take care of Mommy while I was gone?”

“And Kya,” Bumi happily reports, snuggling in between his parents.

The family of four holds each other close. It doesn’t solve any of the world’s problems, but having each other makes dealing with those problems easier.

———

Councilman Sokka, now also Chief Sokka, visits Air Temple Island a few months later. He wrestles with Bumi, _gently_ under Katara’s watchful eye. He’s captivated by his niece and how observant she is, even at her young age. He jokes and talks politics and reminisces with Aang and Katara. They don’t talk about Yakone, or the fact that Toph hasn’t written a letter or stopped for a visit since Kya’s birth.

This is his only living family, and even they feel distant. They exist separately from him.

He relishes the time he gets with them. Bumi’s three, almost four, and he’s a little mischief maker, but come on, how much harm can a little fun do? Sokka has a new understanding of why Iroh stayed by Zuko’s side through the bad times and the good. If it came down to it, he’d do the same for Bumi in a heartbeat.

Kya reminds him of Katara. Her wide blue eyes seem to see things that no one else can. She’s an amicable baby, rarely crying, mostly smiling and giggling. She’ll be amazing at whatever she pursues in life, whether she travels the world and teaches bending, or marries into another powerful family, or runs off and joins the Kyoshi Warriors, or anything else.

It’s nice to know that there’s a strong legacy in place. They may not be his legacy, but he loves them all the same.

Katara asks him about it when he’s done playing with Bumi. 

“I’ve got a tribe and a council to run,” he brushes off her question. “I mean, I want a normal life, but this isn’t the same world we grew up in. What does normal even look like anymore?”

“We haven’t known a traditional life in a long time. We ran around the world, sleeping wherever we could, never knowing if we’d wake up. That was our normal. We built new lives and new cities, and for the first time since we were children, we settled down. That was our normal. Then came Bumi, and now Kya.” Katara adjusts her grip on Kya. “Normal changes every day. We never thought when we went fishing that day that we’d find Aang. Zuko never thought he’d be on the throne of a peaceful nation, if at all. Toph always bucked against every rule, and now she’s the chief of police.”

Katara’s right; she _always_ is. She puts a hand on her brother’s arm.

“Your life is what you make of it. And if you want to throw a wife and kids into the mix, I think you should.” 

“Or you could do what Toph did and jump straight to the kids,” Aang supplies, holding a napping Bumi on his hip. 

Katara thwaps him on the back, Aang yelps, and Sokka laughs. 

Aang clears his throat. “Seriously though, if you’re ready to move on, don’t feel guilty about it. She’d understand.” 

“I think I’m cursed.” Sokka’s only half-joking. “I’ve had two girlfriends in twenty-nine years and had to bury both of them.” 

“Are you afraid of falling in love?” Katara’s completely serious. 

“Not of the ‘falling in love’ part. Just the part where it ends tragically.”

Katara offers Kya to Sokka. He takes her in his arms and studies her in adoration. “She’s tiny like Bumi was.”

“Bumi didn’t stay tiny for long.” Aang shifts Bumi on his hip. The toddler is chunky; much bigger than he was when he first came into their lives.

Sokka’s focused on Kya sleeping peacefully in his arms. It feels so right, so terribly right. He thinks he’d be a good father if that part of his life ever worked out. 

“It’s not the worst thing in the world if these are the only kids I’m meant to love.”

———

_Hey,_

_Sorry this took eight months. I had stuff to deal with. Congrats on having another kid! I’ll have to bring Lin by to meet her. She’s getting stronger every day. She’ll probably be able to knock Bumi’s head in soon.  
_

_I miss you guys._

_Regards,_

**_Chief T. Beifong_ **

**_Republic City PD_ **


	5. Tenzin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ember Island reveals your true self. So does parenting.

Just over two years passes between Kya’s birth and the next time the full group is able to convene. It’s been three years since they last saw each other. The newest child in the group belongs to Aang and Katara. His name is Tenzin. Finally, _finally,_ Aang isn’t the only airbender in the world.

Princess Izumi is seven years old, and the most recent object of her affection is a child’s tea set with fire lilies painted on the cups. Bumi is five and he is fearless. Lin is three, and within minutes of meeting Bumi, is convinced she’s just as big and tough as him. Kya is two and she loves listening to Izumi’s stories, whether they’re fictional or not. Tenzin is a newborn, but Aang and Katara travel with him anyway. After having two kids, they’ve eased up on their prior parenting fears.

They’ve once again traveled to the Fire Nation, but they stay on Ember Island rather than in the palace. The group of eleven- twelve, counting Ty Lee- bounces between the same house the adults had stayed in as children and the same beach they’d played and trained on. 

They’ve all changed so much, but the house and the beach are the same. 

“What happened next?” Toph asks Izumi as they relax under the shade of a tree together. Neither of them can swim, so they keep each other company.

Izumi, ever the fan of a good story, looks around excitedly before answering. “Master Katara kicked Daddy’s butt.”

Toph belly laughs. “Yeah, she did. A lot of times. I can’t believe I never heard about _that_ story before now. Hey, have you ever heard about when they worked together to beat up a bad guy?”

“Toph,” Katara calls warningly from the next patch of trees over. She and Mai are enjoying pink popsicles, letting Kya get completely sticky before her mother hoses her down. “She’s a little young for that one.”

“You don’t even know which one I’m talking about!”

Katara raises an eyebrow. “I was there, remember?”

“Okay, fine.” Toph whispers to Izumi, “I’ll tell you later.”

Izumi beams and presses a finger to her lips in a _shh_. 

Under the next set of trees, Mai’s finishing off her popsicle. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard those stories.” 

“One of those stories kind of ended the war,” Katara hints, careful of Izumi’s eagerly listening ears. “The other one was actually right before I came here for the first time.”

Mai nods. “Later.” She stares out to the water, where a tiny human cannonball shoots into the waves. “Now that’s not even a fair competition.”

Katara watches her husband plunge into the water after their oldest son, creating what could be considered a small tidal wave. “It’s not, but Bumi’s convinced he can make a bigger splash than Aang. He talked about it the whole way here.”

“He knows who he’s up against, right?”

“Oh, he does.” They observe as Bumi climbs out of the water and runs toward the short cliffside to leap off for the umpteenth time. “Maybe he’ll beat Aang one day.”

Mai smirks when a third cannonball hits the water. It’s not quite as big as the second, but it’s close. “Ty’s almost at his level.”

“If she were a _little_ more competitive,” Katara agrees.

“You’ve never seen her play volleyball.” Off of Katara’s intrigued look, Mai continues. “The four of us used to play when we’d come here. Ty Lee carried the team. Combined with Azula’s strategy and the teamwork of the supporting cast, we were unbeatable.”

A million questions race to Katara’s mind. _You guys knew how to have fun? Was Azula bloodthirsty even during games? How often did you come here? How long were you allowed to be regular kids?_ She lands on “Isn’t ‘supporting cast’ for theatre instead of sports?”

Mai jerks her head toward the shoreline. “You’re telling me Zuko’s not the most dramatic person you’ve ever met?”

Zuko’s walking on the shore just deep enough for the water to brush his ankles, and even from yards away, the girls can clearly see the animated expressions plastered on his face as he has a one-sided conversation with Tenzin. 

“And then, I found out about rogues trying to re-establish colonies in the Earth Kingdom! Just months after that whole fiasco ended!” Tenzin babbles in response to Zuko. The Fire Lord nods and continues bouncing the infant. “That’s what I said, too. What’s the point of trying to do the right thing if people are just going to keep doing bad things in my name? It’s hard enough to hold onto the good relationships the Fire Nation has without rebels who cling to the old ways.” 

Tenzin blinks. Zuko sighs. “I know, it’s worth it in the long run. It’s the honorable thing to do. And I’m not only thinking about myself anymore; I’ve got to line things up for the next Fire Lord. That is, if she doesn’t run off and open a tea shop instead.” Tenzin’s face is surprisingly judgmental. “Don’t look at me like that, it was a joke. She can have as many tea parties as she wants when she’s on the throne.” 

Zuko turns and shields Tenzin with his body just as another tidal wave ripples through the ocean and splashes his back. He whirls around and waits for his friend to emerge from the water. “Aang, your kid’s right here.”

“Just move further down the beach! I was here with my other kid first.” Aang shakes the water off of his body.

Zuko holds Tenzin up to his ear, pretending to consult him. After a moment, he refocuses on Aang. “Yeah, well, the baby thinks that’s stupid, so we’re not gonna do that.”

“Bring him to someone else and come jump with us!” Ty Lee sounds inviting and playful, but there’s a challenging gleam in her eyes.

“I’d love to, Ty, but we’re in a meeting right now.”

Sokka haphazardly tosses a seashell at Zuko from a few feet away. “No meetings allowed! We’re taking breaks, remember? Go flop in a chair, bring out the cactus juice, and get an embarrassing sunburn. Let me see Vacation Zuko.” He good-naturedly swirls his bottled drink; it’s some Fire Nation specialty Mai brought from her family’s home.

“Hey, Vacation Zuko is here,” Zuko assures Sokka, “it’s not my fault the baby wants to talk politics. You should be more worried about Vacation Tenzin.” 

Sokka snorts. “Are you kidding? He’s the most relaxed baby I’ve ever seen, including Kya. Tenzin’s always in vacation mode, unlike _someone._ ”

Zuko frowns. His eyes critically fall to the sand pile a few feet in front of him. “What is _that_ supposed to be, anyway?”

Lin and Sokka are building… _something_ out of the sand. Parts of it are constructed better than others.

“It was supposed to be a castle,” Lin gripes, balling more sand in her fists and plopping it on top of the _castle_ in front of her.

Zuko freezes, scared he’s offended her, but Lin’s unbothered. The better-constructed parts of the castle are hers and she knows it.

The look on Sokka’s face is priceless. “A castle? You said it was a badger-mole!”

“I tricked you,” Lin says proudly, teasing him.

“Yeah? Well now your castle has feet and a tail,” Sokka jokingly shoots back. 

He pokes at her sides, and Lin’s howling and bending in half and belly laughing. Discovering she was more open to touch than Toph was a joy in itself, but figuring out exactly how ticklish she was and spending every waking moment trying to keep that big smile on her face? The warm feeling that her laughter brings almost drowns out Sokka’s embarrassment that this toddler pulled one over on him.

“Where?” Zuko asks, eyeballing the oddly shaped mounds of sand, and Lin giggles. Maybe it’s residual from the tickling, maybe it’s in response to Zuko’s dig at Sokka. Sokka tosses another seashell at him. 

Bumi wades out of the ocean and approaches the small group. “When do we get to eat dinner?”

Lin wrinkles her nose. “We _just_ ate.”

“We had lunch, like, a hundred hours ago!” Bumi clutches at his stomach dramatically. He’s grown out of his lisp and into a bigger personality. “I’m starving!”

Both of them are wrong, but they’re still learning the concept of time. The group had eaten a late lunch a few hours prior. Now the sky was beginning to turn pink with the setting sun.

“He’s a growing boy, he’s gotta eat,” Sokka coolly explains to the toddler.

“What’s your excuse?” Zuko quips, holding Tenzin close to his chest. No, he’s _not_ using the baby as a shield in case Sokka decides to chunk another seashell at him. 

Probably.

Bumi pats Lin on the head. “You’ll understand when you get bigger.”

Lin grabs his arm and twists him to the ground. “I’m big now!”

In the tussle, the kids completely destroy the sand creature/building. Bumi is bigger and stronger by default, but Lin’s able to hold her own. 

Aang splashes out of the ocean, bending himself dry. He sees the scuffle and panics.

“Bumi! Play nice!”

Sokka pushes himself to his feet and brushes the sand off of his legs. “You worry too much. They’re fine.”

The worry is very present on Aang’s face. “He’ll hurt her!” 

“Aang,” Zuko deadpans. “You do know whose child you’re talking about, right?”

“Besides, if Lin doesn’t get all of that energy out now, she’ll never go down at bedtime,” Sokka adds, watching Lin tug at Bumi’s hair.

“Is she normally fussy at bedtime?” Aang asks, trying to casually shift the conversation. He shares a side glance with Zuko, who’s still holding Tenzin close.

Sokka nods knowingly and chuckles. “Oh, yeah. If they do art at daycare instead of playing outside, she’s a monster by the end of the day.” 

Aang doesn’t hide his grin. “Interesting.”

“Huh?” Sokka finally realizes he’s missing something in this conversation. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You sure spend a lot of time with Lin,” Aang says, leaving his statement open-ended. 

“And?” Sokka’s dusting more sand off his body, staying nonchalant. “Zuko’s been hogging Tenzin since we got here.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “Don’t drag me into this.” 

“Yeah,” Aang says, “But Tenzin’s a baby. Everyone loves babies. Not everyone loves toddlers, especially when they’re as moody as Lin.”

“She’s a special kid.” The men watch Bumi shove Lin off of him. Lin falls straight into the sand and locks her hands around Bumi’s ankles, effectively dragging him down as well. Sokka smirks and raises his bottle to his lips. “A really special kid.”

“Her mom’s pretty special too, huh?” Aang was never one for subtlety. Sokka chokes on his drink. “I knew it!” Aang beams and points his finger at his friend.

“It’s not like that,” Sokka wheezes, still coughing.

“Oh, come on. Just admit you like her,” Aang presses, mindful of the kids a few feet away.

“Where would you get an idea like that?” 

Aang feels like his head could explode. “It makes so much sense! Katara’s been calling it for months. I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”

Sokka’s eyes narrow. “I think you and my sister are crazy.”

Aang turns to the other man. “Zuko? Help me out here?” 

Zuko pretends to consult Tenzin again. “Mhm. _Mhm._ I’ll be sure to tell him.” He lowers Tenzin away from his ear and addresses Sokka. “Tenzin said you do have an unusually soft spot for Lin. And something about cold, lonely nights in Republic City.”

“And what do you say, hotman?” Sokka quirks an eyebrow.

Aang looks at Zuko just as expectantly as Sokka does. Zuko takes a moment to mull it over. “I mean,” he finally says with a sigh, “we didn’t see each other for years. The ship from Republic City showed up on my docks, and the first thing I saw was you and Toph with a baby.”

“You thought Lin was _mine?_ ” Sokka squeaks. It’s loud and it’s not manly; he clears his throat. Lin and Bumi are too distracted to have heard him anyway.

“What was I supposed to think? You’re practically raising her,” Zuko counters quietly.

Sokka matches his low tone. “Picking her up from daycare when Toph has to work late isn’t ‘practically raising her.’ It’s just nice, you know? It’s what friends do. I’m the plan guy, not the kid guy.”

“What’s the plan for when the daycare kids do art instead of going outside, plan guy?” Aang steals Sokka’s bottle and takes a tiny sip.

Sokka’s reluctant to add fuel to the fire, but he does in fact have a tried and true plan for those days, and he’s proud of it. “A snack, Republic City Park to burn some energy, and she’s out like a light before we make it back to her house.” He snatches the bottle back from Aang.

“And bringing her to school when Toph has to go in early, and taking her out on weekends, and buying her every toy she points at,” Aang’s listing items off on his fingers. “I’ve heard from Katara who hears from Toph how much you spoil Lin.” 

“She’s a kid with a busy mom and no dad. I just think someone should be there for her, you know?” 

The heartfelt confession is almost enough to get Aang to drop it. But then Katara teasingly yells at them from across the beach.

“Are you talking about us or something?”

“Why?” Aang yells back, cupping his hands around his mouth to help his voice carry.

Toph’s hands cup around her own mouth. “I can feel a crazy strong heartbeat all the way from here, but the sand’s making it fuzzy. I can’t tell which one of you it’s coming from!” 

Sokka thinks quickly and slings an arm around Zuko. “It’s just loverboy over here! You know, guy stuff!” 

Izumi makes an exaggerated gagging noise while Toph catcalls in response.

“You owe me,” Zuko shoves Sokka’s arm off of him. 

Aang’s face lights up. “I guess we know the truth now. You _do_ like Toph.” 

Then, _then_ they notice the gaping look on Bumi’s face. He and Lin are done terrorizing each other, and he’s looking straight at the grown men. 

“Whatcha looking at, kiddo?” Sokka asks tentatively. 

Bumi’s eyes lower to the water just as the adults hear the big splash behind them. “How does she _do_ that?”

He fortunately hasn’t heard their conversation- his eyes had been glued to Ty Lee, flipping through the air before she disappeared beneath the ocean. Ty Lee’s head pops up between the waves and she swims over to the shallow of the beach. 

She says “I figured it out,” which doesn’t ease Sokka’s paranoia, but she walks right past him and crouches to Bumi’s height. “If we jump together, we can make a bigger splash. I think we have time for one more jump before we have to leave.” 

Bumi turns to Aang. “Will you come with us?”

Aang scoops Tenzin out of Zuko’s arms. “I’m gonna hang out with Tenzin now, okay?”

Bumi’s shoulders slump. “Okay.” 

Ty Lee wrings her hair out. “I’ll race you up there!” 

Bumi scrambles to his feet in an instant and takes off at top speed toward the cliff. Top speed for a five year old, anyway. Ty Lee’s hot on his heels, letting him win, but only by a hair.

—————

When they make it back to the house, the dinner prep and settling down for the evening begins immediately. Well, for the children it does. There’s no definitive game plan as to who’s on kid duty and who’s cooking- the adults divide and conquer on impulse. 

“Where are Kya’s socks?” Aang yells from down the hall. 

“They should be in her bag!” Katara yells back, tossing more seasoning into the pot of soup in front of her.

“I already checked there!”

Katara grits her teeth and pulls cups down from the cabinet, stacking them in her arms. “Check _again!_ ” 

One of the cups topples from her grasp, but Zuko’s quick to catch it before it falls very far. “Meat is speared and seared.” He sets the cup on the nearest countertop and takes the rest of them from Katara.

“Put more heat on the soup and start filling these cups. Water for the kids, tea or ‘special juice’ for everyone else.” Katara looks around the kitchen. “Where’s the ‘special juice?’”

Zuko adds more fire under the big soup pot. “In the cellar around back.” He chooses the first person he sees. “Toph, go get the wine. Pick a good one.”

“Yeah,” Toph drawls, “because I know what that looks like.” She gets up regardless. “Where is this cellar, anyway?”

“I’ll go with you,” Mai offers, and they’re gone in a flash.

Doors are slamming shut down the hall, and Katara whips her head in that general direction. Before she can take a step, there’s a firm hand on her arm.

“They can handle the kids for twenty minutes while dinner’s cooking,” Zuko says. “Kid cups are full. What do you need now?”

Before she can answer, Bumi runs in, a towel clutched haphazardly to the front of his body. “I don’t have clean underwear!”

Katara sighs and crouches to her oldest son’s height. “You know what? The pair you had on before you put your swimsuit on is clean enough. Put those back on.”

“Okay!” Bumi turns and runs out, backside bared to his mother and the Fire Lord. Katara’s hand flies to her forehead with a resounding smack.

Toph returns then, two maroon bottles in her hands. “I hope this is what you wanted, Sparky.” She hands the bottles off to Katara, who begins pouring immediately. As soon as the first glass is full she takes a big swig.

Mai follows Toph, sees the cups sitting on the counter, and frowns. “That won’t do.”

Zuko glances over from where he’s slicing more vegetables for the soup. “What won’t do?” 

“Where’s Izumi’s cup?”

“Whichever one she drinks out of? I don’t know.”

Mai purses her lips. “No, she likes to use _her_ cups. The ones from her tea set.”

“I’m a little busy.” 

Mai huffs and heads down the hallway, presumably to go find one of her daughter’s special cups. She and Sokka awkwardly dance around each other in passing.

“Hey, Katara,” Katara looks up at her name, “good news and bad news. We found Kya’s socks, but…” and there’s her brother, holding her fully-clothed daughter, who’s also _soaking wet._ “She wanted to get back in the bathtub.” 

“No one was watching her?” Katara sets her cup down on the counter a little harder than necessary. “Where’s Aang?”

Sokka’s holding a wiggling Kya at arm’s length so she can’t soak him as well. “Aang’s bathing Tenzin, I was trying to find Bumi’s underwear, and Ty Lee’s working through some massive knots in Lin’s hair. We’re a little understaffed in the back.”

“ _You’re_ understaffed?” As the words leave her mouth, she can hear the soup starting to boil over. Zuko quickly moves the pot from the flames, grimacing at the hot metal on his palms. Katara takes a second to breathe. “Sokka. Put Kya in dry clothes. I don’t care which ones at this point; I’ll deal with her wet clothes later. And tell Aang to keep an eye on her, especially around water. He should know that.” She sticks a finger in her daughter’s face. “We don’t get in the bathtub with our clothes on.”

Sokka and Mai shift past each other again in the doorway. Mai’s holding a tiny teacup in both of her hands- she exchanges one of the smaller cups of water on the counter with it. She offers a small smile to her husband, and it immediately falls when she sees his red palms. “What did you do to your hands?”

“It’s fine.” With the way Zuko’s loosely gripping the knife while trying to chop vegetables, it’s obvious he’s lying.

Katara looks over and does a double-take. “No, it’s not fine! Come here.”

“It’s fine,” he repeats firmly. 

Mai pulls a tiny blade from somewhere in her dress and gently nudges Zuko away from the cutting board. “I’ve got this. Go.” In seconds she’s chopping faster than he was pre-injury. 

Katara delicately grabs Zuko by the wrists and works her healing hands over his stinging palms. She doesn’t have to say anything like _be more careful_ or _you’re not immune to burns, moron_ ; the silent message is loud and clear. “Thank you,” she says instead when she’s satisfied with her work. “Go sit down for a minute.”

“If anyone needs to sit down, it’s you.”

They realize just how loud the house is in that moment- the sizzling and chopping noises mere feet away, the chaos down the hall, the dialogues happening over it all. Katara shakes her head. “I do this all the time. I can handle it.” After a second, she adds, “If you won’t sit, go get everyone else. Dinner’s almost ready.”

—————

No one ever did find Bumi’s underwear. Kya’s wearing one of Bumi’s clean shirts as a dress, to her father’s amusement and her mother’s chagrin- _that’s not what Katara meant by “I don’t care what clothes you put her in,” but she’ll take it._ Lin’s hair is tangle-free and is styled in “a real Kyoshi Warrior braid,” she tells her mother excitedly. Toph humors Lin by running her hand over the plait and complimenting her on it. Izumi’s happily sipping water from her special teacup. Tenzin is cradled in his father’s arms, at peace for the moment. 

None of the adults can remember the last time they were in a room so full of love.

—————

After dinner, the kids are on the brink of exhaustion. They go to bed without much of a fight. Their caregivers move onto their second, third, whatever glass of ‘special juice.’ 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Ty Lee admits. “They don’t ever stop. When do you have time to breathe?”

Toph raises her glass. “Now.” The parents of the group laugh and raise their glasses as well. 

Aang finishes his sip first. “They say it takes a village to raise a child.” 

“How many villages does it take to raise three?” Sokka quips. 

“If you find out, let me know,” Aang smiles. “But seriously, I’m glad we’ve got each other. All of us. We’re here for each other and for the kids. We do what we have to do to make each day reach its full potential. For them. I couldn’t ask for a better village to help raise my children.”

The group toasts again. Mai clears her throat tentatively. “So we’re one and done, and I’m assuming three is enough for your clan?”

“We’re assuming so, too,” Katara says. In her younger years she’d wanted a whole brood of children- now more familiar with the struggles and joys of motherhood, she’ll settle for three. She won’t object if they wind up with four or even five, but three is enough for now. “What about you, Toph?”

Toph lazily blows her hair out of her face. “It’s me and Lin against the world.”

“Lin and I,” Sokka corrects.

“Yeah, I guess you too,” Toph acquiesces, swirling her half-empty glass thoughtfully. 

“No, I meant, like, _words._ ” He can’t think of the proper explanation, especially not when Aang’s making that face at him. 

Ty Lee unknowingly comes to his rescue. “I don’t think I’m ever having kids. All of yours keep me busy enough when I’m not on official duty.”

As if on cue, tiny, heavy footsteps trudge down the hallway. Lin’s “real Kyoshi braid” is loose from turning over her pillow, but still intact. “Tenzin’s crying. Izzy’s singing for him, but he won’t stop. And I can’t sleep because she won’t stop singing and Tenzin won’t stop crying and Bumi snores _so loud_.”

Ty Lee sets her glass down and moves to stand up. “I’ll get him.”

Aang beats her to it. “I’ve got it.”

Ty Lee cocks her head. “You sure? I don’t mind.”

“Of course. He’s my son.” Aang walks with Lin back down the hallway.

“I didn’t even hear him,” Katara says when her husband is out of sight. “He’s my baby, and I didn’t even hear him crying.”

“None of us did,” Sokka assures her. “I’m sure you just tuned him out.” Katara gives him a pointed side-eye he hasn’t seen in _years._ “I mean, because you hear it all the time.” He catches himself, yet again. “Not because Tenzin’s always crying or anything! You’re a great mom.” For good measure, he adds, “I love you.”

Katara gives a small smile. “I love you, too.” The room falls into a comfortable silence until she breaks it. “Don’t have more than one.”

“What?” Toph quickly sits upright. She regrets it when her head spins. “Where is this coming from?”

“I love my kids,” Katara hurriedly says, “all of them. Equally. I love my kids very much.” She pauses, and no one dares to interrupt her train of thought. “Don’t have more than one if you can’t love them equally.”

They sit in silence for a bit longer, wondering if she’ll clarify, even though it’s not necessary. When she doesn’t, Zuko refills his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”


	6. Suyin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This pregnancy is more terrifying than Toph’s first one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried multiple times while writing this. The whole thing is (canon) major character death centric. It’s only mentioned, but it’s mentioned a lot. Su’s the bright spot in this chapter, just like she is in all of our lives.

Toph comes home from her shift at the precinct, exhausted and starving. She knows without a doubt that there will be take-out waiting on her kitchen counter, Lin will be asleep in her own bed and her homework will be done, and her best friend will be asleep in the bedroom. It’s their routine at this point. It’s comfortable. It’s _terrifying._

They were never supposed to end up like this. That was the whole point of that stupid pact, wasn’t it? Motivation to find _the one_ out of fear they’d wind up with each other. And yet, Toph finds the take-out on the counter, hears Lin snoring peacefully through her bedroom door, and when she goes into her room to put her uniform up, there’s Sokka asleep in the bed. 

They’ve wound up together anyway. 

There are no labels involved, and certainly nothing romantic. But they do more than just exist around each other; they practically live together, bouncing between their apartments as if that’s what normal people do. Neither of them are bothered by it, and neither is Lin. That’s what confuses Toph the most, she thinks. Isn’t this supposed to be weird? Are they supposed to be this comfortable with their situation, whatever it can be called?

She bends her uniform off of her body and stretches deeply with a soft grunt. The metal is comfortable, but not the most flexible. She steps into the shower and scrubs at her skin furiously, trying to think of anything but the puzzling thoughts bouncing around in her brain. After that, she stabs at the chicken and veggies mixed with the rice in the take-out container while her hair dries. Eating in the bathroom is unconventional, but it works. Just like everything else about her life.

Six more years. That’s what they’d agreed upon almost a decade ago. Nine out of the fifteen years had passed, and the only relationship either of them had been in was Toph’s brief stint with Kanto. In six years they’d get _married_ , if they didn’t find anyone else before then. She couldn’t help but wonder what the hold up was on his part. 

She wasn’t blind to his effect on women. Before they met, there had been Yue. Toph only ever heard stories about her, and she knows it sounds dumb, but she swears she can _feel_ the moon shining into her bedroom window when Sokka’s there. Then there was Suki. Toph hadn’t even known about her until they met at the Serpent’s Pass. She didn’t think this girl could be _that_ important because she hadn’t heard stories about her like she did with Yue. And yet, she was wrong. Suki _was_ that important, and proved her importance daily, whether it was in battle or in the quiet moments spent around a campfire. So Toph backed off. She stayed off, even when Suki had been gone for years. Somehow, “off” became “on” again. For some reason it bothered her when office secretaries and legal interns and even baristas would put on a soft, pretty voice in front of him. Like that would make any sort of significant impact on him.

When she opens the bathroom door, she hears the sheets rustling, and then a sleepy “Hey.” She crawls into her side of the bed and lets her head thud against the pillow. “Her” side of the bed _should_ be the whole bed, because the bed is _hers,_ but she doesn’t mind sharing. She actually enjoys it. And that’s _terrifying._ There’s a dip on the other side of the bed and more sheet rustling. She props herself up on her forearm. “Where are you going?”

The sheets stop moving. “Back to my place?” 

“It’s late. Just stay.”

“You sure, T?” He asks to be polite, but is already crawling back under the sheets. The first time this happened, it had taken much more convincing.

“Quit asking. It’s annoying.” Her voice is gruff, but she rolls over and curls up into his side like she always does. 

Sokka pokes at her side and Toph arches away before half-heartedly shoving her elbow into his stomach. “That’s annoying, too.”

“You love it,” he mumbles into her hair. He’s out like a light, an arm protectively wrapped over her body. 

That’s the most terrifying part. She does love it. 

—————

She thinks back to nights like that a lot. Probably more than she should. But everyone says that she shouldn’t worry because it’s a normal part of grief.

That makes her want to scream. It’s _not_ normal. Normal is when she comes home and there’s take-out on the counter and Lin’s asleep in her bed and he’s asleep in _their_ bed. Life without him is not normal, but suddenly that’s her life. 

She can hear the whispers. None of them are remotely close to the full truth. 

“They were good childhood friends.” “They worked together a lot.” “He helped take care of her daughter.” “That poor girl.”

She can’t be bothered to correct them. That’s all anyone needs to know.

——————

Lin doesn’t understand all of it. It’s not her fault; she’s a child. All she knows is her “big buddy” is gone, and he isn’t coming back.

She doesn’t know who’s going to take her to “Dinner with Dad” night at school now. She doesn’t have one of those. 

Republic Panda used to be her favorite restaurant. She doesn’t like going there anymore. 

Her mom is still gone a lot because of work, and when she’s home, she’s sad. She tries not to be sad, but Lin can hear her crying in the bathroom.

—————

It’s not about her; Toph knows that. Months later, when she hops on the boat to Air Temple Island, _alone,_ it’s not about her. She’s going to comfort her friends. Because that’s what friends do. 

She grips the railing of the boat. _I know you don’t like boats, but there’s not land everywhere, T. Try not to worry about the water, okay? We’re almost there, I can see the city from here. Do you want to hold onto me?_ Her grip tightens. 

“Chief, the railing,” a crewmate timidly says to her. “You’re crushing it.” 

Toph lets go of the railing. “Then find someone to fix it.” 

She shoots a ramp out of the side of the boat and stomps down. It’s almost not even worth it, because no one reminds her that _there are ramps built into the boat, T._ Seconds after her feet hit the ground, she zeroes in on the light footsteps approaching her. “Hey Aang.”

“Hey Toph.”

She doesn’t dodge his hug, but she doesn’t reciprocate, either. “How are you guys doing?”

“Better, but not good. It’s going to take more time.” Aang shifts gears. “How are you doing?”

She numbly repeats, “It’s going to take more time.” She clears her throat. “Uh, Lin’s staying with a friend of hers, so it- it’s just me. We’re good to go.”

They walk to his house, and Aang won’t stop talking about _anything,_ and it’s grating on Toph’s nerves but she knows he needs to keep talking or he’ll break down. She finally selfishly interrupts him. “How are the kids?”

“Bumi stays out with his friends until the sun goes down. He’s been playing rougher, and I try to stop him because I don’t want him or any of his friends to get hurt, but maybe playing rough is helping him? I know we like to bend to clear our heads, but he can’t. I don’t know what to do with him.” Aang breathes deeply. “Kya picks a lot of flowers for Katara. She gives them to the acolytes, too. She just wants to make people smile. I think she’s still too young to fully understand what happened. Tenzin definitely is. I try to keep him out of the house and away from it all.”

Toph nods. Her own answer is on the tip of her tongue, but Aang doesn’t ask how Lin is doing. _It’s not about her._ She lets him ramble about Tenzin for the rest of the walk to his house.

There are more people in the house than Toph anticipated. Her apartment has been quiet- why shouldn’t the rest of the world be? _It’s not about her._ She can hear Ty Lee chattering to Kya, probably braiding her hair on the floor. The smell of jasmine tea wafts into the living room from the kitchen, along with Mai, who’s clutching Tenzin on her hip. She offers Toph a cup. Toph takes it and sips politely. “Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Izumi’s out in the yard playing with Bumi. She wanted to share her boomerang with him.” The tea burns Toph’s throat. “Zuko disappeared with Katara a while ago. They should be back soon.”

Toph regrets leaving Lin but is also glad she did. She doesn’t know how Lin would handle all of these people. She sinks down onto the couch, surrounded by people she’s long considered to be family, but feeling utterly alone. _It’s not about her._

Toddler hands land on her knees and jolt her from her thoughts. “Aunt Toph! Ty Lee did my hair!”

Toph runs her fingers over Kya’s braids. “They’re beautiful.”

Ty Lee plops onto the couch next to Toph. “Kya, why don’t you go pick some more flowers, and I can put them in your hair?”

Kya disappears excitedly. Ty Lee shifts on the couch. “Your aura is very dark.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Ty Lee takes Toph’s hands in her own and squeezes them. “So is everyone else’s.” 

Toph stops herself from asking whose is the darkest. Grief isn’t a competition. It’s selfish to think she’d be more upset than anyone else, or that it matters in any way. She’s still curious. 

“Lin’s not here?”

Toph shakes her head. “Nope.”

“I was about to go outside with the other kids. I just wanted to offer to take her, too.” Ty Lee bounces up, not as peppy as usual, and walks away. 

—————

She finds Zuko at some point between then and dinner, and she wants to just say hi and that be the end of it, but she can feel how heavy his heart is and how broken his “hello” is, and it nearly does her in. She caves in and wraps her arms around him, and before she knows what’s happening, tears are pricking at her eyes. They almost fall, but they stop when she notices wet fabric already pressed to her face.

“Why’s your shirt all wet?”

“Katara got to me first.”

Toph laughs, and the action lets a few traitorous tears join Katara’s on the front of Zuko’s shirt. She pulls away. “You’re not gonna cry, are you?” She wants it to sound like a joke, but then decides to be honest. “I don’t think I can handle this if we’re both gonna cry.”

“I think I’m done crying for now.”

Toph wipes her sleeve across her face. “Yeah, me too.”

“If you’re not done, you can find me later.” He knows she’s lying. He won’t say anything for now.

She lightly sinks her fist into his arm. “I know I can.”

——————

They eat dinner all together, like one big, pretending-to-be-happy, incomplete family. After dinner, Mai volunteers to help Ty Lee put the kids to sleep. She’s not big on heavy emotions and feelings, and she fully understands that the others need some alone time. 

That leaves the four of them at the table. _Four._ Aang, Katara, Zuko, and Toph. It feels wrong.

They don’t say anything for a while. Eventually, Katara waves a hand in the vicinity of the kitchen area. “Behind the knife rack. Glasses are in the cupboard above there.”

Zuko wordlessly gets up and retrieves a bottle of wine from behind the rack, just where Katara said it would be. He pauses in front of the cupboard. “How many glasses?”

“None for me,” Aang says, rubbing Katara’s shoulder soothingly.

Toph thinks long and hard before she says, “Me either.”

Zuko returns with two glasses and the bottle. As he pours, he starts talking. “So, did you guys ever hear about what happened when we went to the Boiling Rock?”

“We got the big parts when you came back,” Aang says. 

“When we were in my war balloon, it was really awkward at first. You know, because we barely knew each other, and weren’t really friends, and we were on this life or death mission together.” He slides a glass toward Katara. “Somehow, I don’t even remember now, we were kind of sharing life stories? I think I started talking about Mai. And then he tells me, ‘My first girlfriend turned into the moon.’ I had no idea what to say to that, or if that was supposed to be a metaphor or something, so I just said ‘That’s rough, buddy.’”

Toph can’t help it, she laughs hysterically. Her other two friends join in. “And he didn’t throw you out of the balloon?”

“Fortunately.”

“That’s awful!” She manages words between breaths. She’d give anything to hear the other side of that story. “Not that he didn’t throw you out, but what kind of a response is that?” She’s the only one still laughing, and she can feel tears starting to fall down her face that aren’t from laughing, but this dichotomy of feelings isn’t unusual anymore. She wipes the tears away. “When we were, where were we?” She turns her head to Aang and Katara as if they’ll know what she’s talking about just from that. “We were in some Fire Nation colony when Katara decided she wanted to play dress up and save the town. And you made us think Appa was sick so we’d stay longer, remember?”

“Purple tongue,” Aang recalls. Katara rolls her eyes, but there’s the tiniest smile on her face.

“Yes!” Toph points at Aang. “But while you two were off doing spirits know what, we were back at the campsite, and he was freaking out because I was ‘so sick’ and I ‘needed to lie down’ because my tongue was purple. You should have heard him going on and on about his stupid schedule. And then I was like, ‘I’m not sick! I ate berries!’ We figured out what was going on pretty quick after that.” They laugh again.

“Toph, do you remember the first few nights of the Yakone trial?” Aang asks. Toph nods. “Do you remember that one night where you had to leave the restaurant early to go to the station?” Toph waves her hand, encouraging him to get to the point. “So after you left, we decided to go down to the docks and walk around. And while we were there, he was like ‘let’s go out on my boat.’ So we climb on, and he’s really confused because he can’t remember where he put the keys, but we find them and get out on the water. And after a little while he starts not feeling well, so he’s got his head hanging over the side of the boat, and when he comes back up he’s really panicking. He saw the name on the side of the boat and realized it wasn’t his.” 

Zuko chokes on his sip of wine.

“You _stole a boat?_ ” Katara’s shocked, but she’s laughing.

“On accident! And then we were both panicking, trying to steer it back to the docks as fast as possible, but it was so hard because he wasn’t feeling good. We were gonna refill it up and put everything back where it was, but then the owner of the boat was standing on the docks!”

“No!” Toph cackles.

“Yes! Oh my goodness, we explained everything and apologized and gave him some money and prayed he didn’t call you.”

Toph grins. “I would have knocked you both into next week if I’d walked past the holding cells and you were in there.” She wishes she’d stayed at dinner that night.

“Oh, here’s one,” Zuko’s already blushing, so they know it’s about to be good. “One night after I had just joined you guys,” he stops to think, and then looks up at Katara. “The night before we left to go find the Southern Raiders. I needed some more context as to why you were so mad at me, so I decided to go ask Sokka. And on the way over to his tent, I bumped into Suki.”

Toph already knows where this is going. “No way.”

Zuko nods. “Yes! But I didn’t know they were a thing, so I was like, ‘oh, did you need to go in there?’ And she played it off so cool, she just walked away, and I thought that was the end of it. But then. I walk into his tent, and he rolls over and has a rose in his mouth, and we’re both just staring at each other like ‘uhhhh.’”

The four of them are laughing again. “A rose?” Aang asks.

“Yeah,” Zuko grins, “I thought it was really stupid, but apparently it worked out pretty well for them. Maybe we should try that out sometime, Aang.”

“Don’t you dare,” Katara warns her husband jokingly. 

Toph can’t help but wonder if she would have gotten the same childish romanticism if six years had passed quicker. Her mouth goes dry. 

—————

She tosses and turns on the couch that night. It’s a lot smaller than her bed. It’s the same couch they sat on when they made the pact. 

If the footsteps didn’t give Katara away, her sniffles would have. Toph sits upright and pats the empty seat next to her. “Sit.”

Katara sits. “I just feel empty. I want to be like I was, crying and mad at the world, but I’m not. I’m completely empty and I feel so guilty.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“He’s my brother, Toph. Before three months ago, there wasn’t a single day where I woke up and he wasn’t there. Why can’t I cry about it anymore?”

Toph can’t, _can’t_ tell Katara exactly how similar their circumstances are. _It’s not about her._ “Maybe you’re healing.”

“I know what healing feels like. This isn’t it. Toph, I’m scared.” Katara’s voice is barely a whisper. “I’m not getting better but I also don’t want to get better.”

She doesn’t know what to say, so she recites the things the RCPD grief counselor has told her. “You get to heal on your own time, in your own way. There’s not a right way to do it, but there is a wrong way. It’s a good thing you can see you’re doing it the wrong way. Now you just have to take responsibility for yourself. You can be sad, and angry, and you can even be scared, but you still have to get up and face the world. If anyone’s strong enough to do it, you are.”

They’re both sitting there with tear-streaked faces, holding each other’s hands like they’re afraid to let go. “We have people who depend on us,” Toph continues. “I have Republic City, you have this island, and we both have our families.” She surprises herself by deviating from the script. “You have to pick and choose who gets what parts of you, Katara. You always try to be so happy and put-together for everyone, and not everyone deserves that from you. You don’t owe that to anyone. Give it to your family, give it to me and Zuko if you feel like it, and don’t give it to anyone else unless they earn it. You’ll never put yourself back together if you try to make all of your pieces fit where they don’t belong.”

Katara’s voice is still small. “He told me the same thing.”

Toph squeezes her hand. “Yeah, me too.”

Katara gives a shaky sigh. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. I don’t care what. Tell me about you. What’s going on in your life?”

For the first time, it _is_ about Toph. And she’s still terrified. “I’m pregnant again.”

She can feel the way Katara’s heart speeds up, and for the first time in a long time, her friend is genuinely happy. “I was wondering why you didn’t drink earlier! Congratulations! How far along are you?”

Toph hopes the darkness of the room can mask her expression from Katara’s view. “About three months.”

—————

Katara needs a distraction and Toph needs the help. For the next six months, Toph lets her friend dote on her and obsess over her. 

At month six, she sends a notice of her impending leave of absence to the Council. She tries desperately to not think about what happened the last time she sent one.

Katara never asks Toph about marriage or who the father is this time. Toph is immensely grateful for that.

At month nine, they make Aang take all four kids out for hours in the evening. Katara’s the one holding her hand while she pushes. It’s a bittersweet moment Toph will never forget. 

Aang comes back with his children and Lin, and Katara refuses to let any of the kids into the room. “It’s too messy,” she tells Aang in a low voice. “I need to do some clean-up first.” 

Toph agrees to that much, but she also allows Aang into the room once she’s more decent and her new daughter is in her arms. “She’s got hair,” Aang says, and Toph laughs.

She almost doesn’t ask, but she wants to know. “What color are her eyes?” 

“Green,” Aang says. Toph’s not sure if she’s relieved or not. “Green like Lin’s. And she’s got dark, thick hair.”

“She’s a real Beifong,” Toph jokes. She runs her fingertips around her baby’s face, searching for traces of the father. She finds him in their daughter’s sharp jawline, and in her brow shape, and maybe, _maybe_ in the ears. It’s terrifying that she can’t remember what every inch of him feels like. 

“Suyin,” she says, unprompted. She’s rolled the name around in her head for so long. It feels good to say it aloud. “Su, for short.” She presses her daughter close to her chest. “Su, say hi to your Aunt Katara and Uncle Twinkle Toes.”

“Hey,” Aang protests, but it’s not a fight to have right now. He sits on the edge of the bed. “Hey Su. Welcome to the family.”

The moon shines brightly through the window.


	7. Izumi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People talk when they think the thirteen-year-old princess is out of earshot. But Izumi’s always listening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t noticed, I’m a sucker for slice-of-life writing. And after all of the angst of the last chapter, I needed to write something that would put the pieces of my broken heart back together. I give you domestic royalty.

Izumi’s always got her face in a scroll. The only time that changes is when scrolls start to be more commonly bound into books, and she loves books even more because there are more pages to read.

She’s been studying for years- more than just the things she’s taught in school. Izumi wants to know why the waves crash against the shores the way they do, and why some flowers grow better in different times of the year, and what kind of snacks are safe to feed the turtleducks in the pond at the center of the courtyard.

She starts studying people, too. She wants to know why her family rarely leaves the Fire Nation. She wants to know more about the man with the kind eyes who gave her that boomerang all of those years ago. She wants to know how her dad got those giant scars. 

Some of those answers are found in history texts. Some are found around the dinner table. Some, she discovers, are found in hushed whispers when no one thinks she’s listening. 

But she’s always listening.

Izumi peers down from her hiding spot in the rafters of the palace kitchen. She’s scouting the chefs out, waiting for enough of them to turn their backs so she can drop in and sneak out some bread for the turtleducks. And while she’s there, she hears whispers she’s definitely not meant to.

“He was the princess’ age when, you know,” one of the chefs puts a hand over his left eye. 

“I was working here at the time,” another, the head chef, replies.

Izumi’s breath catches in her throat. She was being quiet before, but now she’s dead silent. 

“What was it like?”

The head chef ponders it. “Like any other day. Except, at the end of it, there was one less mouth to feed around here. Bigger portions for the princess after that.”

The princess. _Aunt Azula._

“She started bringing her friends around more. You know, the Fire Lady and Commander Ty Lee.”

That’s news to Izumi. She knew her mother and aunt were friends, and her mother and Ty Lee were friends, but she’d never connected the dots before. 

She carefully slips down from the rafters back the way she came rather than into the kitchen. She’s on a mission.

—————

“Will you braid my hair?”

Ty Lee’s thrown off by Izumi’s request- she hasn’t asked for this in years. But it is a slow morning, and Ty Lee will take every extra minute she gets with Izumi. When she was younger, they got to spend a lot more time together. As she’s gotten older, slots of her day that Ty Lee used to fill became consumed with schoolwork and training with various weapons and other princessy duties. “Of course!” She sits down on Izumi’s bed and maneuvers so the princess can sit comfortably while getting her hair done. “What kind of braids do you want?”

“I didn’t know there were different kinds,” Izumi admits as she hands her hairbrush over. 

Ty Lee winks at her. “I’ll give you something pretty.” She brushes through Izumi’s silky black hair. “There are tons of different kinds of braids. I’ve been doing mine like this since I was a girl.”

“So that’s not a Kyoshi Warrior thing?”

Ty Lee blushes. “No. I just tell little girls that to make them feel special when I do their hair. But lots of us do wear braids! And we do different kinds, depending on where we’re from and what works best for our hair. I have mine like this, but Tenna’s from the Northern Water Tribe, and she has two long braids that she wears a lot. She likes to put beads in them, and they all mean different things. Hira’s from one of the Earth Kingdom colonies and her whole head is covered in these small, tight braids that she can either leave down or put up.”

“Have you ever been to the Northern Water Tribe?”

Ty Lee shakes her head before realizing Izumi can’t see her. “No. I think your dad went once when we were much younger. He was probably a little older than you at the time.”

There’s her opening. “Can you tell me more about when he was my age?”

Izumi feels Ty Lee hesitate behind her. “Like what?”

They’re both awkwardly dancing around each other, avoiding the elephant-sized scar in the room. “Anything,” Izumi settles on. “Everyone talks about the war ending and everything that happened after that, but I want to know what happened before. What were my parents like?”

“Unhappy.” There’s no use in lying to Izumi; Ty Lee knows she’ll learn the truth eventually. While she doesn’t want to lie to this girl, this princess she’s faithfully guarded and raised for thirteen years, there are some things still better left unsaid. For now. “There were a lot of bad things going on. I don’t think I could even remember everything to tell you.”

“Try.” 

Ty Lee pauses again, but for an entirely different reason. The princess is both of her parents made over, stealing an even balance of their physical traits and growing into an odd mix of the rest of them. But the royal genes are strong. With that one, firm word, Ty Lee would have sworn Azula had said it if Izumi weren’t sitting right in front of her. “Well, for starters, your grandfather was crazy. One of those world-domination types.”

“So I’ve heard.” She knows _that_ much; she’s not dumb.

“And he had ways of getting people to agree with him. Ruthless, evil ways. So for kids who were only raised around that kind of thinking, it was easy to believe that was how you should treat people. Especially if you’re royalty, because then no one can tell you no.” Ty Lee tugs at a knot in Izumi’s hair. “Or at least, you _think_ no one can tell you no.”

Ty Lee sets the brush down and begins sectioning off Izumi’s hair. “There’s not a good way to say this, so I’m just gonna lay it out. We were the bad guys. All of us. And again, we were kids, so we didn’t really know what was going on. I was traveling with the circus, for crying out loud, and then Azula showed up and tried to kill me because I told her I didn’t want to chase down the Avatar with her, so yeah, I went with her. And then we got your mom involved-”

“My _mom_ helped hunt down the Avatar?”

Izumi tries to picture a younger version of her stoic mother, traveling the world to hunt down Avatar Aang and- and then what? Capture him? The picture doesn’t fit together nicely in her head. Neither does the image of sweet Ty Lee at her mom’s side on this mission, or the vision of what her father’s sister may have looked like.

Ty Lee smirks. “Oh, honey. Just wait until we start on your dad. But yes, at some point, we all hunted down the Avatar and definitely tried to kill him and his friends.”

“Wait, _what?_ ”

Ty Lee playfully tugs on a lock of Izumi’s hair. “We were the bad guys, keep up. I seem to remember your mom getting nailed in the head with a boomerang in Omashu. Trade deal gone wrong, we were trying to get Tom Tom back after he got kidnapped-”

“Uncle Tom Tom was kidnapped?”

“Yeah. It’s funny,” Ty Lee thinks out loud, “I forgot about that until just now. So many crazy things happened to us, and we did so many stupid things. Kidnapping’s kind of a big deal to most people, and it’s barely a memory for me.” She clears her throat. What’s a good story to tell? “Speaking of stupid things, there was this one time all of us were fighting on top of a gondola that was dangling over a volcano-”

“Volcano fighting?” Izumi knows it’s rude to interrupt and she’s done it several times now, but her mind gets blown every time Ty Lee changes thoughts. It’s hard to follow this story. “I’m sorry, keep going.”

Ty Lee pins up part of the hair in front of her. “So we’re fighting on this gondola. Your dad was breaking out of prison and he kidnapped your mom’s uncle, who was also the warden of the prison, and your aunt and I were trying to stop him and his friends from escaping.”

Izumi’s trying to process all of this as fast as possible. “Where was Mom?”

Ty Lee grins, tying off a thin plait. “She put a stop to the whole thing. Completely caught Azula by surprise, but I kind of saw it coming. Not that specifically, but your mom choosing him over her. To make an incredibly long story short: that’s the story of the time your dad broke out of, and your mom and I got thrown into the Boiling Rock.”

“The Boiling Rock,” Izumi breathes. “Agni! That’s insane!”

“I know!” Ty Lee pins up more tiny braids.

“You guys sure had a lot of adventures,” Izumi laments. “Dad traveled the whole world by the time he was sixteen. I’m thirteen and I barely get to leave here.”

Alarms start going off in Ty Lee’s head. Apparently no one has told Izumi much of _anything_ about the previous Fire Lord’s reign. “You know what? That’s a story I think he should tell you when the time is right.” She taps Izumi’s shoulders. “Go look in the mirror.”

Her hair is in a single bun as usual, but there are braids swooping together in loops that seem to connect in the bun. She marvels in the mirror. “I love it! Thank you, Ty Lee.”

Ty Lee smiles at the young girl. “You’re welcome, little Princess.”

—————

Izumi does her best not to mess up her new hairstyle as she goes about her day. Between her sword lessons and staying awake through her math lessons, it’s tough. During her literature studies, she can’t stop staring through the window at the pond. The turtleducks have a lot more freedom than she does. It’s stupid to be jealous of the birds, but here she is, wishing she had a shell to crawl into at will.

“You seem distracted today,” her tutor says in the middle of a lecture.

Izumi’s attention snaps back to the book in front of her. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

The tutor’s a little thrown off. There are common children he teaches who don’t apologize when reprimanded; he never expected it from royalty. He treads lightly. “Does Fire Nation literature bore you?”

Izumi shrugs. “Kind of. I’ve heard most of these stories before.”

“What would you like to learn?” The tutor is hesitant to ask; they’re on a strict schedule, but this is _the princess_ and he doesn’t want to upset her. Or her parents.

“Literature from the other nations. Or, if I need to keep learning about the Fire Nation, I want to learn our history.” 

The tutor’s mind reels. He just wants to go over the classics, that’s what he’s being paid to teach. Maybe shifting gears will satiate his student. “What if we study dramas instead of classics?”

Izumi avoids answering by thoughtfully staring out the window again. The tutor has dealt with this type of thing before. He tries a new strategy. “I hear there are revered actors on Ember Island. Perhaps if we study some of the dramas, you could take a trip to watch them perform.”

He pulls a slew of smaller books from his bag and lays them out on the table. “Select a few of these and we’ll begin.”

Her amber eyes immediately fly to a script with two dragons on the front cover, their tails swirled into a heart. She’s always interested in a good love story. That one goes into her pile. She flips through the other titles, picking and choosing as she goes with minimal interest. A play near the bottom of the stack catches her eye: _The Boy in The Iceberg_. She’s never heard of this play, but the faces on the cover art are unmistakable.

Izumi picks up that script and sets it on top of her stack. “This one first.”

A wave of uncertainty washes over the tutor. “That show did not run for very long. I’m not sure how that made its way into my bag. Regardless, it belongs in my personal collection.”

“Then find me a copy.” After a beat, Izumi hastily adds, “please. You said to pick some, and I did. I pick that one.”

“Of course.” The tutor removes that copy from her stack. “I’ll find a new copy of it for you. For now, let’s begin with this one.” He points to the play with the dragons on the cover and prays his student forgets she ever even saw the other script.

—————

“They know who we are,” Izumi says quietly to her mother as they walk through a public market. She’s ever conscious of the crown pinned in her bun. “They know we buy from the markets when stocking the palace. Why do we come out here in person?”

“I thought you wanted to leave the palace,” Mai says.

“Not to come _here_.” Izumi looks around at the various carts and shops, waiting for something to catch her eye. “The only reason we even come is to put on a show. It doesn’t really help anyone just to see us.” 

“It lets the people know we support them. And it’s a more personal approach.”

Years of hearing the queen’s intonations help Izumi see straight through the carefully masked distaste in her mother’s voice. “You don’t want to be here either,” Izumi realizes.

“I’m not a fan of big crowds. But it’s important to the people and to your father, so we’re here.” One of the skills Mai’s picked up in maturity is redirection. She uses it liberally on Zuko when he gets stuck in his own head; their daughter isn’t much different than him. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t get to learn much about the other nations. After a while, all of the Fire Nation stuff gets boring.”

Just when Mai thought she knew how to manage Izumi, she morphed from one parent to the next, and Mai suddenly doesn’t know how to react. Having a daughter so similar to herself is both a blessing and a curse. Mai sighs quietly. “Yeah, it does.”

Izumi’s surprised by the confession but keeps her composure. _This could be it._ “Is that why you left all those years ago?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. But it all worked out.”

“Like at the Boiling Rock.”

Mai’s eyes dart to her daughter. “So you’ve heard about that.”

“Only a little. I want to hear more.”

Mai thinks on it. There are a lot of ways she can go about this. None of them are particularly favorable. “Do you know why I think war meetings are pointless?”

Izumi blinks, confused. “Um, no?”

“One reason is because they make too big of a deal about who’s allowed in there. It shouldn’t be a difficult decision.” She’s leaving it at that. That explanation alone has put a sour taste in her mouth. “The other reason is because I spent the better part of a year with a cold, manipulative strategist. One of the best minds you’d want sitting at your table when readying for a battle. But even with all of her planning, there were things she couldn’t expect.”

“It was you,” Izumi fills in the gaps based on what Ty Lee told her, “right? She thought all of the variables were under her control, but she didn’t think about you. You put a stop to the fighting.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that. I just distracted her long enough for her opponents to get away.” Mai impulsively decides Izumi’s old enough to hear it. “I thought I was going to die that day. And I probably would have, if it hadn’t been for another variable we didn’t think of.”

“What was it?”

“Ty Lee.”

Izumi gapes. Her hand instinctively traces over the braids twisting into her bun. It feels like the puzzle pieces are starting to click together better than before.

Mai rolls her eyes and stops walking to feel some loose fabrics hanging outside of a dressmaker’s shop. “Don’t look so surprised. She saved my life that day. There probably isn’t a single thing she could do to lose the trust or respect we have for her.” 

Izumi nods and runs her hand along a velvety maroon dress. “So,” she’s falsely nonchalant, “what were you doing at the prison, anyway?”

A wry smile forms on the queen’s face. “There was a prisoner I wanted to talk to.”

“Dad, right? How’d he wind up in a place like that?”

“I hear he let himself in on a rescue mission of sorts. Posed as a guard, got caught, made a daring but stupid attempt at escape and nearly got dropped into the boiling water.”

“On the gondola, right? But you stopped it. That’s what Ty Lee said. Is that-” Izumi feels shyness creep over her entire being. “Is that how you fell in love?”

It’s a straightforward question, but the answer couldn’t be more complicated. If she says yes, Izumi will want to know what happened next, and if she says no, that only guarantees more questions Mai probably doesn’t have the answers to. It’s not that she doesn’t want to tell her daughter, she’s just so young still, and- and it’s all so, so stupid, Mai realizes. Izumi’s nearly the age they were when these stories took place. Why are they guarding her like she couldn’t very well be on a similar journey at this point in her life? What are they protecting her from?

“No. But,” her fingers caress the fabric of a silky black dress, “it was a kind of promise. A show of loyalty. Sometimes life gets bad, because it’s life and that’s what it does.” She clutches the dress, not caring about pressing wrinkles into it. “I was furious with him that day. I was so angry, but I still loved him. And I was mad at myself for feeling that way, because it was supposed to be so easy- I was going to talk to him, get everything off of my chest, and wait for his move. He’d either come back with us or stay in prison, and that would be that. Nothing about it was easy. I’m standing in a prison cell, pouring my heart out to this jerk who dumped me with a _letter_ and disappeared in the night like a thief or something, and then he locks me in there and runs off, and I’m even more furious than I was before, but not at him? What’s that all about?” 

This is the most Izumi’s ever heard her mother say all in one go, and she has a million questions about this new information, but there’s not a single chance she’s about to interrupt. She watches Mai let go of the dress and try to smooth the wrinkles out. 

“I was mad because I would have gone with him. No letter necessary. Not because I thought he was right, but because it was him. You’ll understand one day.” The wrinkles aren’t coming out of the dress. “When we got to the prison, he was the one who had to make the choice, not me. The country or treason. My choice was made- I’d choose him and the country every time. But when I was sitting in that cell waiting for some guard to come open the door after he locked me in, I realized how foolish that was. He’d changed so much. Choosing him was choosing treason. It was never supposed to be like that. I was raised to be the perfect daughter, I got looped into being friends with Azula, got a thing going with the _prince_ of all people- how was I supposed to know any of this other stuff would happen?” 

Mai gives up on fixing the wrinkles, but she can’t look at her daughter right now, so she fixates on the dress. “I thought maybe if I caught up to him before he did anything stupid, I could change his mind. And then,” there’s a half-forced laugh, like she really wanted to show her amusement but it just wouldn’t come out, “I run into the prison yard, and there’s a riot. There’s yelling, and people are throwing things, and all I can see is one of the few people I love fighting for his life on top of a gondola. A gondola that the guards were cutting the cables on. So I stopped them. Committing treason became the easiest decision I ever made. The gondola kept moving, it got across the volcano, and he left.” Mai refocuses on the point of her whole story. “Life gets bad, but you should always be able to count on the people you love.”

She finally looks at Izumi, who’s frozen in place. “Not the love story you were expecting?”

Izumi shakes her head. “There are more steps to falling in love than I thought.”

Then, Mai genuinely laughs, loudly enough to attract the attention of a few passersby. She silences with a contented sigh and wraps an arm around her daughter. “You know,” she gestures to the black dress, “this would look beautiful on you. And I bet the seamstress at the palace could take the wrinkles right out. Let’s get it.”

On the walk back to the palanquin, it dawns on Izumi that visiting the common markets is kind of like making the gondola move across the volcano.

—————

This is the moment. All of her training amounts to this singular, definitive moment in Izumi’s life. She’s ready. She was _born_ ready.

She’s finally going to steal a loaf of bread to feed to the turtleducks.

Izumi scales the wall in the hallway just as the guard turns the corner, his back to her. Her foot nearly slips from the window sill, but she’s able to propel herself upward and her hands find purchase in the palace rafters. Slowly, she pulls herself up and out of sight. She stops to breathe. _Thanks, Ty Lee._

The kitchen is only one room away. She opens the hallway vent as quietly as possible and wiggles through, crawling until she finds the opening that leads to the kitchen. There, she opens that vent as well, and ducks into the rafters above the chef’s heads. Now it’s just a waiting game. They’ll leave the kitchen soon, and then she can drop down, snag the bread, and scurry back up into the rafters. It’s a longer crawl from the kitchen vent to the one in her quarters, but she’ll drop down in her bedroom and let herself out into the courtyard, and she’s home free.

Time passes slowly. The chefs leave the kitchen even slower. Finally, _finally_ only the head chef remains. He does a thorough sweep of the room, making sure everything is in its place, and then he extinguishes the flames illuminating the room. The door opens, then closes. Izumi grins in the darkness.

With some maneuvering, her feet land quietly on the floor. She tiptoes toward the pantry, determined not to make any unnecessary noise. She reaches out toward the handle. Just as her hand is about to make contact, she hears, “They like crackers better.”

Izumi jumps out of her skin and whirls around, taking a half-decent fighting stance even though she has nothing to arm herself with. But there’s no one there? A much taller figure drops from the rafters with more grace than Izumi had. Even in the darkness, she’d know that silhouette anywhere. But there’s _no way_. “Dad?”

A small flame appears in his palm, illuminating Zuko’s soft smile. “Hey Princess.”

“How did you-?” Izumi points at the ceiling a little helplessly. 

Zuko shrugs. “I’ve been here a lot longer than you have. Did you think you were the first person to find that path through the vents?” He makes a beeline for the cabinets above the stovetop. 

Izumi’s still glued to the floor in front of the pantry, pointing upward, dumbfounded. “But- but why-?”

“Why the sneaking around when I could just ask for the crackers? Or at least make sure the turtleducks get fed by someone else?” Zuko opens the cabinet and looks over his shoulder at his daughter. “Probably the same reason you didn’t. It’s more fun this way.”

“Fun” isn’t the word in Izumi’s mind initially, because this is a _very serious mission,_ but she has to admit sneaking around is pretty fun. At the very least, she knows she’s not in trouble. “So, crackers?”

“They like biting into them. And bread’s actually pretty bad for turtleducks if you give them too much or if the chunks are too big.” With ease that could have only come from performing this heist multiple times, Zuko pulls a box of crackers down from the cabinet and tucks it under his arm. 

In what feels like a blink of an eye, the cabinet is closed and he’s gone. The only shred of evidence that the Fire Lord was ever in the kitchen is the faint scent of lingering smoke. Izumi steps away from the pantry door, momentarily wandering in place. A small flame flickers in the heights of the ceiling. “Well? Are you coming?”

Izumi grins and hoists herself upward. 

Minutes later, they’re sitting by the pond together, tossing in broken crackers. The few turtleducks that are still awake are very appreciative. 

“What did you do today?” Izumi asks.

“Signed some papers, sat in some meetings. It’s been twenty-two years without any talk of war, so I think things are going well. How are your classes?”

“Boring.” The word shoots out before Izumi even thinks about it. “I mean,” she quickly corrects herself, “I’m learning a lot, and the tutor is nice.”

“But it’s still boring.” Zuko breaks another cracker in half. “What are you learning about right now, anyway? Avatar Roku? That’s where you were last time we talked.”

“Actually, in my literature studies, we’ve moved on from classics to dramas. I started reading the first play after dinner. _Love Amongst The Dragons._ ”

If she was shocked earlier in the kitchen, Izumi’s absolutely astounded by the way her father’s face lights up now. “Oh, I love that play! What part are you at?”

“Shen Li just ran away from home after, you know. The whole fight.”

“Pao really knows how to write a good play. The beginning’s a little slow, but it picks up and gets really interesting.”

Izumi casually approaches the subject. “There was another play I wanted to read, but the tutor kept finding different ways to tell me no.”

“Which one?”

“Something about an iceberg.” She remembers the full name, of course. But this is another delicate mission.

Zuko’s face scrunches up. “That play’s terrible. It’s riddled with historical inaccuracies and bad dialogue. And the production I saw wasn’t much better. I mean, the effects they used for the drill and the ocean spirit were decent, but that’s about it.”

“Will you tell me more about the play?”

Zuko knew this day was coming, but Agni above, he didn’t expect his little girl to grow up so fast. “I’ll do you one better. When you get a copy of the play, we’ll sit down and read it together, and I’ll tell you everything that’s wrong with it. Deal?”

It’s good enough for now. “Deal,” Izumi smiles. 

They toss a few more crackers into the pond. “You know I love you, right?” 

Izumi’s completely taken aback by the question. “Of course I do.”

“I just,” Zuko relights the dimming candle sitting next to him, “I really want you to know that. I know it can be hard because I’m busy a lot, and you’re getting busy, too. And I didn’t have a good relationship with my father. Still don’t. And I don’t ever, _ever_ want to hurt you.” 

Izumi doesn’t miss the way the candle flickers when he says that. 

“So, just try to remember that, okay?”

Maybe it’s the way he’s set up his rambling sentences, or the way he’s so careful with what he’s saying, or quite possibly it’s the words of the chefs echoing in her brain- _he was the princess’ age when, you know_. It’s more likely a mixture of all of it that paints a pretty clear picture of the relationship between her father and his, and Izumi’s blinking back tears that weren’t there a second ago. 

She doesn’t know the full story. Maybe she doesn’t need to. She knows her dad loves her, and that’s good enough for her. 

Izumi leans into Zuko’s arm. “I love you, too.”

—————

Weeks later, as promised, her tutor brings an additional copy of _The Boy In The Iceberg_ to the palace. Upon studying the cover a little more closely, Izumi makes a discovery that proves her father was right- this play is going to have a lot of inaccuracies.

“That’s funny,” she says aloud, still looking at the cover.

Her tutor peers over her shoulder. “What is?” 

Izumi points at the tiny drawing. “The scar’s on the wrong side.”


End file.
